Sparkles
by This Coffee Tastes Like Crap
Summary: Sequel to Giggles (s/11343261/1/Giggles). Welcome back to that one Modern AU where Mama Bert and Papa Reiner are overprotective, Annie keeps finding stray sociopaths in her house, and Eren may not hate Armin as much as he says he does because everyone has a tragic backstory. AruAni, emotionally constipated Eren and gore that'll make you backflip into the sun and die.
1. Friends?

"P-Please don't hurt me!"

Armin sighed as he restrained his victim. "Shut up," he muttered as he attempted to manhandle her to the car. It was odd—they were in the middle of nowhere, and he would normally be giggling insanely by now, relishing in her begs for mercy and screams of pain.

Now he just felt irritated.

"H- _help_!" she screamed in his ear, " _Someone help me_!"

"Oh my—," he grunted as he caught an elbow to the ribs, "I—you're in the middle of _nowhere_! Nobody's going to fucking hear you! Now just get into the car so I can kill you!"

"H- _help_!" she continued to shout, oblivious of his statement.

"You know what?" he asked, dropping the woman on the ground. "You're more trouble than it's worth. Go away."

The woman stared at him, looking shocked and still afraid. "Y-you're not going to—"

"Run before I change my mind."

 _That_ got her moving. With a yelp she stumbled to her feet and ran off, tripping twice on her heels.

"Pathetic," Armin muttered to himself as he sat in his car. This was the third time he let a victim go, and he didn't understand why.

He had broken out of prison easily, but ever since he killed DD he just hasn't felt bloodthirsty anymore. He _did_ succeed in killing someone, but he got bored way too quickly. It literally got to the point where he snapped his victim's neck to get them to stop screaming because it was grating on his ears.

He's _never_ felt that way before.

Sighing, he started the car and got back on the road. He was still Sina County, a long ways away from Trost.

Maybe it's time to pay some old friends a visit.

Annie found a surprise waiting on her couch.

"What is this?" She asked herself as she lifted the wrapped gift and inspected it. It had ocean blue wrapping and a white bow, reminding her of a certain blonde she knew.

When she unwrapped it, she realized it was a book. When she opened it, a note slipped from between its pages.

 _Turn around._

The girl swiftly spun around to see another blonde staring down at her.

"R-Reiner!?" Annie exclaimed, wide-eyed and confused. "W-what the hell are you doing here?!"

The bulky blonde laughed and sat down on her couch. "Is that any way to greet your best friends?"

 _Friends…?_ "Bertoldt's here too!?"

Suddenly the toilet flushed and said brunette stepped out of the bathroom, looking relieved.

"Why the hell are you two here!?" Annie demanded.

Bertoldt jumped, noticing her presence for the first time. "O-oh! Hi!"

"Don't 'hi' me," the blonde girl growled, "what are you guys doing here!?"

Before Bertoldt can buckle under her cold, withering stare Reiner spoke up. "We're worried about you," he said, "I mean, you've been acting different ever since Armin had first broke out—and even _more_ different when he was locked up again."

Realization hit her like a truck. She _had_ changed.

When Armin was with her she was happy—or terrified, but she was willing to live with it—but when he was incarcerated again she had become pretty miserable. It was the little things—like actually having to do chores around the house—to the big, life changing things—seeing his smiling face every day, coming home to a husband-like figure, and not being forever alone.

However a voice in her head said that that was where he belonged—after he brutally murdered DD, she had become quite scared of him, but she knew without a doubt that he wouldn't lay a finger on her.

 _I don't give a damn about anyone else in your life._

And then there's _that_.

"You know I'm right," Reiner declared, "it's showing on your face."

"W-we care about you," Bertoldt piped up, "and we're here to help."

 _Wait a second…_

" _No_ ," Annie said sternly, "you are _not_ moving in here!"

"You didn't come to Connie's house," Reiner countered, "Bertoldt and I can handle ourselves, and so can you, but…"

Annie began to panic. She was certain Armin was capable of breaking out of high-security prisons, and the last she she wanted was for him to come home to two other males in her house.

 _Now you'll see what happens when you touch_ my _Annie_.

She involuntarily shuddered.

There's no doubt in her mind that he'd try to kill them. Despite how annoying they can be, she doesn't want them to die—and especially not in such a graphic, gruesome way. Even if Armin lets them off with some sort of warning, it would be catastrophic.

"Annie," Reiner said in a very serious tone, "do…do you care about Armin at all?"

Annie froze.

Her blonde friend sighed. "Annie," he said sternly, "he's a _killer_ —"

"He _saved_ me!" Annie snapped, "He wasn't the one who stabbed me—in fact, he was the one who made the 911 call and stayed back to make sure I was okay!"

"B-but why?" Bertoldt asked timidly, "N-not like we don't believe you—"

" _I_ don't buy it," Reiner muttered.

Bertoldt sighed. "What if he just wants to kill you for himself?"

Annie let out frustrated sigh. "Why did he bother to make sure I was okay!?" she demanded, "Why did he comfort me until the medics arrive? Why did he fucking _go with the police willingly!?_ "

After her outburst, Annie flopped down on the couch next to Reiner and put her face in her hands. She knew _exactly_ why—he loved her.

And she loved him back.

But she can't tell them that.

"So _what_!?" Reiner retorted, "Annie if this little psychopath has an interest in you then there's no way in _hell_ Bert and I are going to leave you alone—especially if _you're_ gaining an interest in _him_!"

She couldn't help it.

She sobbed.

Normally she does a really good job of keeping her emotions in check, but the thought of Armin coupled with the only two sane people who care about her having conflicted interests all for her own good made it impossible to hold it in any longer.

"A-Annie…" Bert said, sitting beside her. "W-we're sorry," Reiner apologized, rubbing a soothing hand on her back. "We're just trying to look out for you, that's all…"

"B-but…" she couldn't believe how pathetic she was being right now, and it was taking all of her willpower to not blurt out why she had suddenly been reduced to a mess of snot and tears.

"Don't worry," Reiner said, "We'll always be there for you."

She didn't know whether that was good or bad.


	2. Mall-Smart

"C'mon…" Marco muttered, trying to balance four grocery bags while trying to open the house.

"Here," a voice said, "let me help you with that."

"Thanks!" Marco said as two of the bags were relieved from his slippery grasp—thus making it possible to open the door. "Just set them on the cou—"

He froze, almost dropping the other two bags.

"On the counter?" Armin asked, walking past him and doing just that.

The freckled brunette blinked, stunned into silence.

"I'm going to grab these before you drop them," Armin said with a light giggle, taking the bags in his hands and doing just that.

It was odd—Marco had been in the same prison with him (he had been dragged into some tom-foolery with his best friend/roommate Jean and had willingly took the fall for it—it's a long story) and had been released just a couple days ago. He's still on parole, but he can now resume managing the bookstore he runs with a few childhood friends. He was a few cells away from him, but they usually talked whenever they got the chance. The memory of it sent a hand straying to his eye patch, a product of the "incident" that got him in prison in the first place.

Marco finally found his voice. "Y-you've broken out."

"Yeah…" the blonde sighed, flopping down on the couch and covering his face with his forearm.

"…you don't sound too happy about it," Marco said with a smile as he began to put the groceries away.

"Do you need—?"

"I'm fine," Marco interrupted, "now, why are you looking depressed after forcing your way to freedom?"

Armin lifted his arm and peeked at Marco. "You're not going to call the cops?"

Marco shook his head as he finished putting groceries away and bright two steaming mugs of coffee to the couch. "Here," he said, "you look like shit."

The blonde took the beverage thankfully. "I haven't slept in a week—and I'm _not_ exaggerating."

"I believe you," the brunette said, laughing slightly. "Now, spill."

Armin looked down into his coffee. "…I don't feel like killing people anymore."

The brunette blinked. "Really?" Marco asked, "Not even torturing them? I remember you left Mikasa Ackerman alive after you tore up her back…"

"Yeah, but…" Armin sighed loudly, sipping his coffee. "I _did_ kill one guy, but I got bored way too quickly… _and_ I can't stand the sound of screams of pain anymore."

Now _that_ surprised Marco. "You used to _love_ it when victims screamed for mercy! When did this happen?"

The blonde looked down at his drink again. "Well…it was after I killed DD and saved Annie."

 _Now_ Marco understood completely.

He hasn't known Armin personally before prison, but while they were there he's learned quite a bit about him—DD, or Daniel Davidson, had been his tormentor throughout high school, and had been instrumental in Armin's plethora of mental problems and fondness of box cutters (a blade that was under two inches long, and thus Marco shares this fondness as a parolee—though on a lesser level).

He also knew about Annie, the rather distant blonde the serial killer fell head over heels for (and was coincidentally his best friend's coworker). Apparently she was distressed after the blonde snapped and killed DD, and thus let himself be taken by the police after making sure she didn't bleed out.

"You really _do_ love her, don't you?"

Armin's head snapped up. "H-huh?" he asked, cheeks tinged with a light blush.

Marco laughed. "Armin," he said, still chuckling. "C'mon buddy."

"A-are you _laughing_ at me!?" the blonde boy demanded, "Is my misery _that_ entertaining to you?!"

"Yes," Marco replied bluntly, "this is pretty amusing."

Armin pouted, which only made him laugh harder.

Once Marco composed himself, he took a deep breath. "You love Annie, right?"

"Y-yes," the sociopath said, looking down once again.

"And you don't feel bloodthirsty anymore?"

"Not even a little."

He couldn't help it.

He laughed again.

"Seriously?" Armin asked, "Why is this so funny?"

Marco sighed happily. "You already killed the person that pushed you to commit murder in the first place, and now you don't have the heart to do it because there's no point _and_ it would break Annie's heart."

Armin rolled his eyes.

"It's true!" Marco insisted, "Isn't it?"

There was a pause, and then Armin looked down and started to giggle—and it was the cute ones, not the creepy insane ones. "I guess you are," he said, "and _I_ thought I was a genius…"

"You're very book-smart," Marco said, "and you can pass for a strategist in the military or something with how cunning you are. You just aren't _street_ smart."

"I'm street-smart!" Armin protested, "I have to be in order to evade the cops and kill people!"

Marco shrugged. "Fine," he said, "you're not _mall_ -smart."

The blonde raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "I've read quite a few books," he said, "and never have I _ever_ come across that word."

"It's because it's not real," the brunette replied, sipping his coffee. "I made it up on the spot."

"Well then," Armin said with a smirk as he finished his coffee off, "what does ' _mall_ -smart' mean?"

" _Book_ -smart," Marco began, "means you have a plethora of knowledge that would help you pass a written exam or such—people who usually become engineers or something. They get their knowledge from _books_.

"Then there are the people who are _street_ -smart, who have good instincts—like when to fight or run or where not to go or what to do or not to do. They learn it from being on the _streets_ —"

"—of the _hood_ ," Armin muttered.

They both burst out laughing. "You're not wrong," the brunette said, "but you'll probably sound a tad bit racist to someone else…"

Armin shrugged, still smiling. "And?"

"Figured you'd say that," Marco said with another laugh, "anyway, malls are pretty much the first place people go to socialize and interact with other people, thus the word _mall_ -smart."

The blonde pondered this for a second. "Are you calling me socially inept?"

"Yes," Marco said bluntly, "you are—but it's not your fault. You just have a habit of killing them upon first meeting."

"Not true," Armin mumbled, "There was once a guy I knew for a while before he became a jackass and _then_ I killed him."

"Name _one_ _other time_ you did that—with your photographic memory."

Armin was silent.

"That's what I thought," Marco said triumphantly, "now good for you I _am_ mall-smart, so I can actually help you with this."

"How?" Armin demanded, "I can't exactly just walk around in public you know!"

Suddenly Marco got an idea.

Marco grinned. "Actually, you're wrong."

For the first time ever, Armin looked unsettled. "…Marco," he said uncertainly, "what's going through that freckled head of yours?"

"A way to get you mall-smart," Marco replied, grinning evilly."

Armin gulped. "Oh…"


	3. Change

**This is what happens when I update right after writing an essay on 9/11-someone has an emotional breakdown :/**

 **So this chapter isn't the happiest, but don't worry, there's still humor I promise! Enjoy :D**

Armin wasn't really sure what he was doing, but whatever it was seemed to be working

He would have thought actually showing his face would have sent red flags everywhere, but it seems to have the opposite effect—when someone commented on his hair, he casually mentioned how he'd get heat about looking like a serial killer with it the person fervently told him that he looked nothing like him, even with his hair down.

 _I can do this_ , he thought to himself as he walked into _Bodt Books_ , the used bookstore Marco runs with his sister Mina and occasionally Jean— _wait a second_ …

The sociopath cursed. Jean would recognize him no matter what! He's seen his face, and now he was dead, so _so_ dead.

"Hey, Mello!"

The blonde sighed and turned to Marco, who was holding a pile of books. "I'm glad you made it," he said, setting the books down as Armin gave in and walked into the store. "For a second I thought that you were going to wuss out at the last minute."

"I almost did," he admitted, laughing nervously. "But I'm here now…and Mello?"

Suddenly a girl with low pigtails bounced into the room, a sweet smile on her face. "Oh!" she said, "You're Michael Keehl, Marco's Parole Buddy!"

Armin almost burst out laughing.

"Y-yes," he stammered, trying to contain his laughter. "Yes I am."

"I'm Mina!" the girl said happily, holding her hand out to shake.

"M-Michael," he replied, not knowing what else to say.

Mina laughed. "I just said that silly," she said as she shook his hand, "now, I heard that you wanted a job, right?"

"Y-yeah…"

"Wow me in 5 seconds and we'll see!"

The boy blinked. "Wait what—?"

"Starting _now_!"

"Uh—I'm Ar— _Michael_ and I—I _will_ stab you if you _don't_ hire me and—uh—I enjoy reading and I can deal with people—"

" _Bzz!_ " she called, cutting him off. "Times up! You're hired!"

The boy blinked again. "R…really?"

"Yep!" she affirmed, "The whole 'I _will_ stab you' thing was priceless! Especially since you like stabbing people!"

Armin's jaw dropped. "I—I— _what_?!"

Suddenly Mina's smile turned into a sly grin as she leaned in close. "I know you're Armin Arlert," she whispered, "but since Marco's convinced you're not a bloodthirsty maniac I'll hire you—but you have to do _everything_ I say~!"

Despite the obvious threat to exploit his weaknesses, Armin let out a relieved sigh. He owes Marco so much right now…

"Now," Mina said, snapping him out of his reverie. "Let's start by sweeping the floor, okay?"

An apron was thrown at him, and he willingly obliged with a smile.

* * *

"Stupid Mikasa," Eren muttered, walking into the rundown used bookstore. "Why the hell won't _she_ buy her own books? Making me take time out of _my_ lunch hour to do something for _her_ …"

 _"_ _Please Eren?" Mikasa said, "I know it's a lot to ask, and after everything you've done for me I have no right to—"_

 _"_ _Don't," he said tersely, "It's just a stupid book."_

 _Mikasa's smile lit up the entire room. "I owe you so much…"_

 _"_ _You don't_ owe _me at all," Eren muttered, "I did it on my own volition. Not like I'm losing an arm or a leg or anything."_

However, when he stepped inside he wasn't so sure.

"Welco—"

The voice stopped as abruptly as it started, and wide, shocked blue eyes stared into furious, narrowed green ones.

"Y…y…you're…"

Armin scratched his head. "H-Hi," he said nervously, "I-I'm…Michael…"

"Bullshit," Eren replied bluntly.

All Eren wanted to do was kill the guy, but something seemed… _off_ about him. Before, even if he had a pleasant smile there was a demonic aura around him, and if scared the living hell out him.

But now it's gone.

"Michael…" Eren said uncertainly, "I…I thought…"

Armin— _Michael_ , excuse him—looked around nervously before nodding to a secluded area near the back of the store. Ordinarily Eren would shout 'Hell fucking no" and hightail out of there, calling the cops later—but for some unknown reason he followed him.

"So you broke out…"

"I…Let me explain," Armin said, scratching his head again. "Apparently people don't recognize my face well, so holding my hair up like this keeps them from even asking. The owner of this shop is a friend of mine who's in parole from the prison I was at, and his friend surprisingly understands where I'm coming from—so please do _not_ mess this up for me."

"But why are you working at a _bookshop_ of all places!?" Eren demanded, somehow managing to keep his voice down. "I mean, you usually love killing people and shit, right!?"

Armin uncomfortably shifted from foot to foot. "Well…actually…"

Eren couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Did…did you have some sort of…change of heart or something?"

There was an awkward silence, and then Armin slowly nodded. "A-after I killed DD, I…I really had no reason to keep killing people. I didn't want to be in prison for the rest of my life—because let's face it, I'm going to be tossed around like a hacky-sack—and I used to work at my grandfather's bookstore in high school, so this is the perfect environment for me."

The brunette didn't know how to absorb the information at all. The way Armin was gripping the broom so hard that his knuckles were white, his misty eyes and downcast expression made him look so…

… _vulnerable_.

However, before he could dwell on that another question came to mind.

"Wait," Eren said, "how old are you?"

Armin blinked. "I'm twenty-two."

"W- _what_!?"

That was _impossible_ —he looked no older than seventeen!

"I know," Armin sighed loudly, "people always have that reaction when they see me."

Eren's brain felt like it was about to explode—everything he knew about Armin Arlert was a lie. His _name_ is even different.

"You confuse the living shit out of me," the brunette muttered.

At that, the boy—well, technically he's a man, isn't he?—laughed and gave him a lopsided smile. "I like to call it 'unpredictable'."

"Whatever," Eren replied. He was still attempting to process the information, to no avail.

"So…you're not going to kill people anymore?"

Armin nodded, his smile vanishing. "I'll try not to," he corrected.

 _Well it's a start…_

He looked like he wanted to say something more, so Eren asked, "What is it? Is there something else you wanna say?"

"I…" the blonde looked down, hair covering his eyes. "…I'm sorry about what I did to Mikasa."

Eren stumbled back. Did…did he just _apologize_?

"I really wasn't in my right mind all of those years," Armin whispered to himself, almost too low for Eren to hear. "I finally got what I wanted and for what? Being unable to live the life I wanted?"

For the first time in forever, Eren…felt _bad_ for him.

 _But_ …

"Who's to say you're not making all of this up as you go?!" Eren demanded, "This seems too sudden!"

"Y-you don't have to believe me," Armin muttered, "just _please_ don't alert the authorities where I am…"

"And why shouldn't I!?" the brunette shot back, "You tortured my sister—"

"I _apologized_ didn't I!?" the blonde suddenly shouted. Then, realizing he was in a bookstore, he lowered his voice. "I-I really _meant_ that Eren. I am sorry for what I did to your sister—I'm sorry for everything I've done in the past five years, for being so damn fucked up and weak, for thinking _murder_ would make me feel powerful—"

Then Armin did something Eren didn't expect at all.

He burst into tears.

It wasn't gentle sobbing either—he had collapsed onto the floor, trying and failing to pull himself together as he gripped the broom handle tightly.

"Please…" he whispered, " _please_ don't make me go back there…"

Suddenly Eren felt superiority wash over him. "Are…are you _begging_ me?"

Armin clutched the broom like a lifeline as he took a shuddering breath. Eren half expected him to start beating him with it, and the other half expected him to stand up and tell him to forget about it and preserve his pride and dignity.

Neither happened.

"…yes," he said, laughing humorlessly. "Ironic, isn't it?"

That previous feeling of superiority had vanished, leaving Eren feeling like shit.

"I…" he didn't know how to respond.

"I'll do anything," the blonde whispered, " _anything_ to not go back _there_ …"

Now Eren was just plain confused. "Back _where_? The asylum?"

There was silence, then a nod.

"You really didn't like that cell that much?"

"It…it wasn't that…" Armin said quietly, still gripping the broom handle.

Then Eren understood.

"Those three years you didn't have a visitor…you weren't in that cell were you?" Eren asked, "you were in a straightjacket."

The blonde nodded, biting his lip as he failed to prevent another sob. "It's the one place I can't get out of, no matter how hard I try," he said, sniffling. "I was too alone with my thoughts, and I swore I heard everyone mocking me…telling me what a failure I was…"

The broom fell with a sudden _clack!_ and Armin curled up into a ball, gripping his hair. "Please please _please_ don't make me go into time out—I-I don't want to I don't want to I don't want to I don't want to—"

 _Time out?_

Realizing that he was starting to fall apart, Eren did the first thing that came to mind.

He gave him a hug.

He felt Armin stiffen against him, and then relax as he continued to cry quietly against his shoulder.

"I'm sorry…" he sobbed, "I'm so, _so_ sorry… _please_ don't put me in time out… _please…_ "

 _What the hell did this guy go through?_ Eren asked himself as he rubbed soothing circles on the blonde's back. "I-It's okay…" he heard himself say after a while, "I won't tell anybody."

Armin pulled away and stared at him with wide, watery blue eyes that snapped Eren's heart in two. "R-really…?"

It was hard to believe that _this_ was the boy—er, _man_ —who killed everyone at the asylum, who toyed with him at the office, who brutally tortured his sister and countless others. Now he just looked like a frightened child who needed someone to approve of his existence.

Not only that, he desperately wanted to find out what the hell happened to him—he knew he was part of a strict family, but the way he kept muttering about "time out" was _really_ starting to freak out. He wanted to just ask, but decided provoking the serial killer while in this state was probably not smart.

"Yes," Eren said instead, "now can you help me find a book?"

The blonde blinked several times, confused. "…book…?"

Eren nodded. "We _are_ in a bookstore, after all…"

"Oh, right!" Armin said, wiping his eyes and standing. "S-sorry…"

He wasn't sure how, but Eren managed to laugh. "It's all good," he said, "I'm looking for _Pride and Prejudice_ …Mikasa really wants that book and I don't know why."

Armin shrugged. "It's a good book," he replied as he walked down the classical aisle. He came back with the book in tow, all traces of what happened earlier nonexistent apart from his puffy, red eyes.

"Thanks man," Eren said, taking the book. "I'll see you around?"

The blonde blinked again, but then smiled. "Hopefully!" he responded happily.

Eren smiled back and headed to the cash register. "Just this," he said, setting the book down.

"That'll be three-fifty," the girl at the register said.

Did he hear that right? "But the tag said—"

"—twenty-three fifty," the girl said, "but you made Mello feel better about himself, so you get twenty bucks off."

Eren blinked. "Y…you know who he is?"

The girl nodded. "My brother Marco was friends with him in prison. He's really trying to turn himself around, so please bear with him."

The brunette found himself smiling. "Don't worry," he assured her, "I will."


	4. I am Death

"Hello?" Marco asked, opening the door.

His eyes widened at the site before him.

Armin was standing there, an insane grin plastered on his face as he tightly hugged himself and giggled like a maniac. His eyes were misty and full of pain and bloodlust.

"It…it came back…" he whispered, trying and failing to suppress his laughter. "I…I'm trying so hard…but I want to kill them so badly…"

Marco sighed. He had been wondering when he was going to relapse.

"Come here," he said, opening the door and leading Armin in. Jean was working late, so it was safe for him to take the poor blonde in.

"I—I haven't done it yet," he said as he sat down, "b-but…they shouldn't be so close to her…she's _mine_ …"

"Armin," Marco said, "you gotta tell me what's going on."

Armin took a deep breath and relaxed slightly. The giggling stopped (much to Marco's relief) and he began, "I…I went to see Annie, but two of her coworkers were practically on top of her when I got there—they were watching some romantic comedy—and Annie _hates_ romantic comedies!"

He couldn't help it.

He laughed.

"Every time I tell you I'm suffering you laugh!" Armin accused, "What the hell!?"

"S-sorry," Marco said, "your jealousy is just hilarious."

The blonde blinked. "J…jealousy…?"

Marco laughed again. "They're Reiner and Bertoldt—"

"I know who they are," he muttered, "I'm just…upset, is all."

"Then you know that Annie thinks of them as older brothers, right?"

The sociopath paused, then nodded slowly. "Y-yeah," he admitted.

"So do you still want to kill them?" Marco asked, looking at him expectantly.

"Yes," Armin responded immediately, "but I won't. The urge is still there, but it's weakened considerably."

Marco sighed. _It's a start…_

"Well Jean's working late today," Marco said, "do you just want to stay over?"

The blonde shook his head. "I-I'm good," he replied, "I don't want to accidentally lose track of time and mistakenly get us both back in prison…"

The freckled man sighed again. "Whatever you say," he sighed, "but are you sure you don't want to—"

"I'm not going to go kill them if that's what you're worried about," Armin interjected, "I promise."

"Well I know that," Marco said, "I just don't want you sleeping on the streets where you could get caught."

"I'll be _fine_ ," Armin insisted, "but I genuinely appreciate your concern."

Realizing that it was pointless to continue arguing, Marco conceded. "Just be careful, okay?"

"I will," Armin promised, standing up. "Thanks again…"

"No problem," Marco replied, watching him go.

He sat there for a few more minutes before he decided to get himself some coffee.

"I'm home," a voice muttered, "man I hate work…"

"Hey Jean," Marco said, making a cup for his roommate as well. "I didn't know you were coming home early."

"Yeah," Jean replied, "hey Mar—"

His roommate suddenly sat up and stared at the freckled man standing before him. "M-Marco!?"

Marco nodded and smiled. "I was actually here yesterday," he said, "but I never had time to actually tell you that I made parole."

Jean blinked multiple times. "…oh."

He realized that his best friend was staring at his covered left eye, hiding the ugly scar that was the result of "the incident".

"So…" Jean said awkwardly, "I'm—"

"If you say 'I'm sorry' I'm punching you in the throat," Marco joked as he sat down next to him.

"B-but—"

"But nothing," Marco said, "I did what I had to. You don't need to be sorry. Now drink."

He handed Jean a cup of coffee, and Jean took a couple sips. "T-thanks."

"No problem," he replied.

There was an awkward silence, and then Jean spoke up. "Who was that coming out of the house?"

Marco tensed. "A parole buddy from the same prison I was at," he half-lied, "we got along during our sentence."

Jean narrowed his eyes. "Really?" he asked, "It kinda looked like Armin Arlert to me—and he _had_ broke out recently."

The man didn't know why he even bothered trying to hide anything from him. "He's… _different_ ," Marco admitted, "He said he doesn't want to hurt people anymore, and so I've been trying to help curb his urges to kill people."

"H-has he been _torturing_ you!?" Jean demanded, "I swear Marco if he touches a freckle on your face I will beat him to death!"

"It's 'hair on my head'," Marco replied, "and no, he hasn't. We talk mostly—he's actually working at my bookstore. He feels comfortable around books, and he's really been improving!"

He stopped when Jean was giving him a strange look.

"…What?"

Jean continued to stare at him. "…you really believe him?"

Marco let out an exasperated sigh. "I got to really know him in prison," he replied, "he's suffering, and now that he's killed the person who made him who he was he doesn't want to kill people anymore."

"And how do you know that?!"

"I told you," Marco said, "I got to know him in prison. He's a really caring person—he's changing for the better. I can feel it in my freckles."

His roommate laughed. "And your freckles have never been wrong," he agreed, "I…I _guess_ I wouldn't have a problem with him hanging out here—just as long as I'm _not_ here _and_ he doesn't touch any of your freckles."

"There will be absolutely no freckle-touching whatsoever," Marco promised, enjoying the rest of his coffee.

* * *

"Are you serious right now!?"

The person currently robbing Annie blinked. "Well, yeah…why would I be kidding?"

Annie rolled her eyes. "It's just hard to believe that my luck is _that_ bad…besides, I'm broke."

"No you're not," the robber insisted, "you just came from the ATM!"

Shit, he saw that. "Just go away," she muttered, "I'm not in the mood…"

"Oh come on," the robber complained, "not even like twenty bucks? Ten?"

 _Was he being serious right now?_ "Fine, I'll give you a twenty if you leave me alone."

The robber whooped and made off with Annie's money. "Fucking amateur," she muttered under her breath. She had robbed her fair share of people, and it was clear that that was that man's first time…though he _did_ get _some_ of her money, but technically he asked nicely, which doesn't count.

Before she can make it to the other end of the alley, another, more experienced looking man jumped from the shadows. "Well, what do we have here?" he asked, smirking. "A pretty bitch giving free handouts?"

 _Shit._ "No," she said, "go away."

She tried to walk around him, but he grabbed her arm. "I ain't interested in your money…"

He smelled like alcohol and sweat, and Annie kicked him in the shin and tried to run. She almost made it too…

However, four other people came jumping from the shadows.

"… _shit_ ," she said out loud.

"Alright boss," one of them said, "who's taking turns?"

"I'm first," the first man said, moving a hand to his pants.

Before Annie could even feel disgusted, two of the other four men suddenly fell dead.

"What the—" The other two fell, and Annie was able to make out a blur of yellow dart out of her peripheral vision.

"W-who are you!?"

Annie turned to the first man and gasped at who he was pissing himself over.

"Oh me?" Armin asked innocently, though covered in blood. "I am Death."


	5. Run

"You stupid little runt!" the man shouted, whipping out his knife. "You think a little bitch like you is going to hurt me?"

Annie's previous elation was shattered when Armin began to giggle. "You should tread carefully," he said, "because the only thing that's stopping me from tearing you to _pieces_ is that young lady over there."

Armin then turned to her and smiled. "It sucks how this is how we meet again," he apologized, "but hi."

"…hi," Annie replied for lack of anything else to say.

"I'll fucking kill you!" the man shouted, lunging at Armin.

The blonde replied by ducking and disarming him, letting the man face plant onto the ground.

"Well that was pathetic," he muttered, examining the weapon. "Nice blade though. I'm going to keep it."

"N-no…you're not…" the man replied, staggering to his feet.

Then, to Annie's horror, he produced a pistol.

"I'm going to have fun with the bitch behind you," he growled, "and I'll find and fuck you later."

Annie had never seen Armin so… _pissed_. Psychopathically happy, yes, but not _angry_. But now his eyebrows were turned downward, an almost comical scowl etched on his face as he glared daggers at the man.

And then the giggles came.

"I wouldn't recommend that," he said, "I don't want to get dirty in front of her, but I can't guarantee I can control myself if you screw up."

"Shut up!" the man bellowed suddenly, pulling the trigger.

Annie went to move, but Armin was faster. He dove in the bullet's path, causing it to hit him in the shoulder.

"A-A—!" Annie began to shout.

"Don't," Armin cut off, "we don't want to attract too much attention…"

"You stupid whore!" the man shouted, cocking the gun a second time.

"Judging by the vulgar names you're calling me, you think I'm female," Armin said, holding his wound. "But I'm actually a male."

The man blinked in confusion, giving Armin the split second he needed.

Rushing the man at an almost inhuman speed, Armin swiftly disarmed the man and judo flipped him to the ground. The man wheezed for air, but Armin put his foot on his throat.

"Now you've made me upset," the blonde said, eyes wide and a shadow covering his face. When the man trembled in fear, he grinned. "I'm going to have a _lot_ of fun with you…"

This seemed different than the psychopath she'd seen with DD. Then, Armin was completely uncontrollable and terrifying—he even admitted that he'd gone too far, that it scared him too.

But this…Armin was being like this on purpose. He was actually having _fun_ with this, and was completely in control of himself. He was still "sane" because he didn't want to put Annie in the same situation as last time when he attacked DD and scared the hell out of both of them, but he was still out for blood—more specifically, the man that tried to mug her.

He was going to kill him on his own volition.

"Y-you can't…" the man stammered, "y-you're injured—"

"You think I give a _fuck_?" he demanded, stomping on the man's throat. "I've been trying to be a good boy lately, but one should indulge once in a while to avoid withdrawal—because if I get _too_ bloodthirsty then people start dropping like flies."

 _Trying to be a good boy…_ he must be talking about his attempt to stop killing indiscriminately.

"A-Armin," Annie stammered, "You shouldn't kill him…"

His grin disappeared as he turned on her. "Why not?" he demanded, "Nobody's going to miss this pathetic waste of air. It'd be a crime _not_ killing him!"

Annie found that she didn't like this Armin either—this one was able to see logic, but in a cruel, twisted way. He'll be harder to sway because of that, and he didn't want him upset at her—the _last_ thing she wanted was to be on her boyfriend's hit list.

Wait.

What.

Did…did she just think of him as her boyfriend? She isn't really _wrong_ —they _did_ love each other, but for some reason "boyfriend" rubbed her the wrong way. Sure, he was the cutest domestic ball of fluff she'd ever seen, but he's also the scariest storm of pure insanity she's ever seen. At times, it's as if the intelligence was just a farce that he somehow keeps up just to scare the living shit out of people—he's either just really violent but in control or a bloodthirsty beast looking for entertaining prey.

Right now she can't even tell the difference.

"You should go," Armin said suddenly, turning away, "I don't want you to witness me murder someone again."

"I…I…" Annie was rooted to the spot. "You don't have to—"

" _Go_ ," he commanded, glaring back at her. "Before I _make_ you."

Uh-oh.

 _Did…did he just_ threaten _me?_

 _That's_ not good. He had promised to hurt her, hadn't he? Unless he plans on getting to her by torturing Reiner and Bertoldt the way he tortured Mikasa, or…

 _I've never heard you scream…_

She involuntarily shuddered.

"Annie," Armin said, bringing her back to earth. "Please…please leave…"

She then noticed to her horror that Armin was starting to slowly unravel—He was trying his hardest to not laugh, his eyes were still bright but slightly unfocused, and he was grasping his arms so tightly that his nails dug into his skin, drawing blood.

Annie backed away. "A-Armin…"

Meanwhile the man was trying to inch away, but Armin put his foot on his back and stopped him in his tracks.

"A-Ar—"

Her voice died in her throat. Armin couldn't even hear her—he stumbled over to the man and straddled him, giggling the whole time.

"As much as I want you to scream," he murmured in his ear, "we can't have that, now can we? I don't want too much blood either…"

He then grabbed the man by his hair and slammed his face as hard as he could on the concrete floor.

"Armin _stop_!" she cried in horror, "P-please—!"

He still couldn't hear her. "Not feeling so high and fucking mighty _now_ are you?" he asked, slamming the man's head a second time. "I'd say go pick on someone your own size, but then I'd be a hypocrite! I just— _love_ — _DESTROYING_ —people—like— _you_ —! "

Annie flinched at the cracking sound the man's skull made as it was repeatedly bashed against the ground with every word Armin spoke, with his giggles echoing through the alleyway. _Why the hell am I still here!?_ She thought to herself, backing away slowly. Armin had officially crossed twisted but sane into violently insane, and saying it was "terrifying" was the understatement of the century.

Right when she thought things had officially hit rock bottom and couldn't get any worse, it did.

Armin stopped smashing the man's head against the ground and turned to her, head tilted upwards as he stared with wide blue eyes blazing with the fires of hell itself as well as an equally wide grin plastered across his face as he said five words:

"I told you to run."

This time she didn't think twice—hell, she didn't even think _once—_ and she found herself running in no particular direction. She kept running even though people were giving her curious, weird, and dirty looks, and somehow ended up standing before Maria Monthly's office building, her place of work.

Again, deciding to think later, she ran as fast as she could inside, her "boyfriend's" giggling following right behind.


	6. Let Me Out

_"_ _Young man," the woman said sternly, "what is this I am holding in my hand?"_

 _The boy looked to the ground, his bright blonde hair and shame covering his face. "M-my report card…?"_

 _"_ _And what is the grade for English?"_

 _"_ _A-an 89 percent…"_

 _The woman glared daggers at the boy. "Care to explain how you ended up getting such a low grade?"_

 _The boy clenched his fists. An 89 wasn't low—in fact, it was actually an 89.4%, meaning that answering one more question correct_ anywhere _would have bumped him up to a 90._

 _So either way his aunt would be upset._

 _"_ _I-I was close to a 90," he said, "I was just one—"_

 _"_ _Answer the damn question!" his aunt snapped, shoving the paper in his face. "Do you honestly think that this acceptable? What did I tell you 'B' stands for?"_

 _The boy sniffled. "B-bad…"_

 _"_ _Exactly," the woman affirmed, "this is utterly ridiculous! Now I will ask you again—_ how did you get this grade _!?"_

 _"_ _I…I…" he couldn't tell her. If she found out he had actually_ flunked _a test would be catastrophic—they only gave a meaning for the letter_ B _because getting below that was just unthinkable! Getting the lowest grade possible…he involuntarily shuddered._

 _However, he had gotten bullied especially hard, and ended up with a concussion. Despite this, his aunt made him stay after she learned of the text just the period after._

 _It was her fault._

 _"_ _Well?" she asked, tapping her foot impatiently._

I might as well, _the boy thought,_ I was never a fan of life anyway.

 _"_ _I flunked a test," he muttered, not meeting her eyes._

 _The world stood still for a terrifying moment._

 _"_ _You…you did_ what _?"_

 _The boy took in a shuddering breath. "I…I flunked a test…I-I had a concussion—!"_

 _He stopped at the sound of paper tearing. He still didn't look up at her._

 _"_ _That's it," she said, "you're going into time out."_

Now _he looked up. "A-Aunty it was a mistake! I-I was_ injured _—!"_

 _"_ _I don't want to hear your bullshit excuses!" his aunt screamed, "You—how_ could _you! Are you_ really _as dumb as all of those other children!? Have you been talking to one of them!?"_

 _"_ _I-it was for a project!" the boy sobbed, defending himself. "I-I had no choice—!"_

 _He was interrupted by his face being struck with his aunt's hand. "Like I said," she said evenly, "I don't want any of your bullshit excuses."_

 _She then picked him up, which caused him to panic. He kicked and screamed, but it was pointless—he was just too weak, like always. She dragged him off to the closet under the stairs and tossed him in._

 _"_ _You stay in there and don't make a single sound. You're going to spend your entire summer in here, understand?"_

 _This couldn't be happening. Time out meant no food or water—the longest he'd in there was three days. "I-I'm sorry Auntie!" he screamed, "P-please! T-the human body can only survive three days without water and a week without food!"_

 _"_ _Then you get water every three days and food once a week," his aunt replied, "nothing else."_

 _"_ _B-but Auntie—!"_

 _"_ SHUT UP _!" She shouted, slamming the door shut. "Every time I hear noise in there I'm tacking on another day!"_

 _That got him to shut up very quickly._

Eren had found him screaming.

The brunette was on his way home when he recognized his previously stolen car—the license plate at least—turning down a dirt road leading to who knows where. Feeling pretty ticked off, Eren began to discreetly follow the car from a great distance until they arrived at a decrepit, abandoned area of town. When the car's taillights went out inside an old parking garage, he immediately shut off his car and walked over, determined to give that blonde a piece of his mind.

Halfway there he stopped.

The memory of their encounter in the bookshop suddenly resurfaced, and some (but not all) of Eren's anger faded. The experience had told him that Armin was _trying_ to change, but he was still crazy as hell…

And that's when he heard the screaming.

They were painful, blood-curdling cries of agony, and Eren found himself backing away from the garage. It was definitely Armin's voice, and it scared him almost as much as his giggling.

 _Almost_.

Steeling himself for the worst case scenario, Eren took a few tentative steps forward. The blonde had wandered away from the car before he started wailing, and after a brief search Eren found him by the stairs, his cries echoing all throughout the garage.

Suddenly there was a loud _thumping_ noise and Eren realized that Armin was actually beating his head against a concrete pillar, and blood had begun to trickle down his face.

"H- _hey_!" Eren shouted, grabbing the blonde and turning him so they were face to face. His eyes were wide and panicked, tears spilling down his pale cheeks. He didn't stop, only thrashed around and continued to cry out.

" _L-let me out!_ " the blonde screamed, " _Let me out let me out let me out—"_

"G-Get a hold of yourself!" Eren screamed right back, shaking him. When he did, he noticed that there were claw marks on Armin's arms and his hands were covered in blood.

 _"_ _P-please!_ " he continued to wail, " _I-I'm sorry—L-LET ME OUT—!"_

 _Please don't make me go into time out…_

Suddenly, Eren understood.

He may not know much about psychology, but he knew that he must be having a traumatic flashback or something similar to that. His dad was a doctor, and it had happened once or twice when he dealt with patients with amnesia or different disorders.

Having no idea how to stop the poor boy's—er, _man's_ —episode, he just did the first thing that came to mind and slapped him across the face as hard as he could.

The screams stopped, and Eren held his breath. He had no idea what could happen now—there were many different ways the serial killer could react. He could go ballistic and kill him, go ballistic and start screaming again, go ballistic and start laughing, or just act like nothing happened and kill him.

Armin blinked, and Eren braced for the worst.

…and the worst was what he got.

Armin suddenly broke into a fit of laughing, giggling in that way that made Eren's blood run cold. He wasn't sure if he was going to kill him, but slapping him again might provoke him to do so—and he wasn't even sure if it helped or not.

"H-hey…" Eren said, shaking him again. The giggles stopped, and he let out a sigh.

"W…what are you doing here…?"

His head snapped back up and saw that Armin looked almost normal—he had calmed down and his eyes weren't wide with madness, just confusion.

"I saw my license plate," Eren answered, "and I followed you in here to…"

To do _what_? He realized that he didn't even know what he was going to do when he confronted him about his car—beat him up? Ask nicely?

"S…sorry about that…" the blonde offered him a smile, but Eren was staring at his arms.

Armin had discreetly crossed his arms and began digging his nails into his already torn flesh, but still somehow had the ability to smile brightly at him as if nothing was wrong.

"Cut the shit," Eren said bluntly, "I see you skinning your arms with your nails."

The smile vanished and Armin looked down, his hair covering his eyes.

"Look," he said, "before you start spewing out some motivational bullshit—"

"I'm not," Eren promised, "But I'm not about to watch you go off the deep end either."

Armin laughed humorlessly. "To late," he muttered, "I lost it a _long_ time ago—I've already hit the bottom."

"You can always swim up," Eren insisted.

"You said you weren't throwing motivational bullshit at me," the blonde replied.

Eren ran a hand through his hair. What the hell was he even _doing_?

Armin laughed again. "Y-you should go," he said, "It's taking a lot of willpower to not lose it again.

Glancing at the blonde's arms again, Eren thought for a moment. "…it's a defense mechanism, isn't it?"

The blonde blinked. "W-what is? My arms?"

"Well, that too," Eren said, "but the giggling."

Armin's eyes narrowed. "Stop," he ordered, "you don't know me, so don't you _fucking dare_ act like you do."

Deciding that getting on his bad side when he was barely holding himself together was a bad idea. "Fine," Eren conceded, "I'll leave you be."

"I'm keeping your car," Armin said tiredly, leaning against the pillar and closing his eyes.

Eren rolled his eyes. "Fine," he muttered, "Mikasa's car's better anyway…"

He stood to leave, but paused as he glanced at the blonde again. He had fallen asleep, his head tilted slightly to the side revealing his face.

He looked so… _peaceful_.

Armin's face was almost angelic, with his blonde hair slightly tussled and all the pain erased from his expression. He snored lightly, and without the blood he would have looked completely harmless—then again, since it was obviously his own, it made him look like a child who needed some love…and serious medical attention.

"Oh _shit_!" Eren cursed. "I'm such an _idiot_!"

What kind of serial killer would just let a person who knew their secret hideout or whatever this place was just go without a fight? He must have passed out from blood loss, and now Eren didn't know what to do—he couldn't call 911, and he sure as _hell_ couldn't bring him home…

Suddenly an idea popped in his head. The owner of the bookshop was nice to him, so maybe _they_ could help!

…but he didn't know who they were…

"Wait!" he said aloud, "Bodt Books…"

He thought for a moment and then it came to mind—Marco Bodt, that douche-fag Jean's roommate. They were friends-ish in high school, and since he was kind to Armin…

Deciding that he couldn't waste any more time, Eren set to work.


	7. Eren's Life is a Lie (Or so he thinks)

Eren really did _not_ know what he was doing.

He was standing inside a Rite-Aid that he drove like a maniac to go to, and was piling medical supplies into his basket when a familiar voice called from behind him.

"Eren?"

The brunette jumped. He was extremely jumpy lately, but for good reason—there was a fucking _serial killer_ bleeding to death in the backseat of his car for fucks sake!

He took a deep breath and turned, realizing that it was actually Annie Leonhart, not a cop like he feared. He was somewhat relieved, though worried—but for her, not himself. She had burst into work the same way that she had the day that Armin had first escaped the asylum, distraught and covered in blood. She kept insisting that it wasn't him this time, but it must still be rough to see people dying around you and getting their blood splattered all over you all the time…

"Why is there a fucking serial killer bleeding to death in the backseat of your car?" she asked, also picking up some bandages, "unless he's planning on jacking Mikasa's car too…"

Now he was even _more_ confused. "Y-you're not going to turn me in to the police? A-after everything?"

Annie sighed. "We need to have a long talk…but no, I'm not."

Eren blinked. Was…was Annie _close_ to Armin? After everything?

Was _he_?

"My life is a lie," he muttered, grabbing some more medical supplies. "You know where That Dick Jean's house is, right?"

Annie rolled her eyes and nodded. "Christmas party, remember?"

Right, that…the worst night of everyone's life—but especially Jean's and his roommates…it was bad enough that he can't even add an insult with Jean's name when he thinks or talks about it.

"Well, Marco's apparently nice to him because he works at his bookstore," he said as they both made their way to the register.

"So I've noticed," she said, stopping by the candy aisle and grabbing a fuckton of Reese's everything.

"W-you have?" he asked, "and why the hell are you getting so many Reese's!?"

"He likes Reese's," she responded, "You get the medical supplies, I get the comfort food."

Instead of trying to comprehend anything, he just did as he was told.

"You're driving me," Annie said as they walked out, "I walked here."

Eren shrugged. It was the first thing in their conversation that actually made some semblance of sense. "Sure, shotgun it up. Just know you have no say in the music."

"I honestly don't care," Annie said, opening the door and sitting down. "…this is definitely Mikasa's car."

"Well duh," Eren replied, "I swear, her and Levi are related when it comes to their OCD—they even share the same last name!"

"Just drive," she said, "because I'm going to kill you if the kid in the back dies."

"I'm not a kid…" a voice in the backseat mumbled.

I fought not to turn around as Annie did. "You awake?"

"Barely," he said, "Why…why are you here?"

"Eren's trying to save your life," she said as I sped down the road, "so I decided to help."

There was a little shuffling in the back, probably pulling up the covers over himself.

"You're so stubborn," Annie muttered, turning back and sitting up straight.

An awkward silence filled the car.

"So," Eren said, dying to break the silence. "How…how did you too get so close?"

Annie sighed. "Well…Armin broke into my house."

"I did not…" Armin murmured, "I just let myself in through the doggie door."

"Whatever," Annie dismissed, "and he didn't try to kill me…and we're into the same TV shows and books…and movies…and foods…"

Eren couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Are…are you two _dating_?"

"Yes," Annie said the same time Armin said, "No."

The two looked at each other.

"I thought we were," Annie said slowly, "unless…"

"I-I didn't know you wanted to be with me…" Armin replied, "so…yes?"

The brunette rolled his eyes. "Well then," he said, "did you know about Jean's roommate?"

Annie looked out the window. "Well…"

 _Reiner and Bertoldt were forced to work overtime by Levi, but she lucked out because she "fucking deserved a fucking break because these fucking psychopaths keep on fucking with her fucking life."_

 _She couldn't agree more._

 _When she found herself settled down into the couch with her laptop in front of her, she heard someone sit on the couch. She didn't need to look up to see who it is._

 _"_ _Hi," she said, trying hard not to smile and failing._

 _"_ _Hi," the unfamiliar voice replied._

 _Annie furrowed her eyebrows and looked up. Sitting the couch wasn't whom she hoped it was—rather, a brunette man covered in freckles and an eye patch was staring back at her._

 _"_ _Really?" She asked, "I already have a psychopath who took up residence here. I'm not letting in any more or else Bertoldt and Reiner will get even more pissed off."_

 _The stranger smiled kindly. "They already know?"_

 _He already knows them. Fuck my life, she thought._

 _"_ _I-I should probably introduce myself," the stranger said, straightening himself. "I'm Marco Bodt, Jean Kirchstein's roommate."_

 _When he said that, Annie nodded in recognition—she'd seen him a few times, though his presence was greatly reduced by Jean's obnoxiousness._

 _"_ _So you're not a serial killer," she confirmed, "just a douche bag."_

 _Marco laughed. "No, I'm kinda Jean's opposite. And Jean's not exactly a douche…he's just brutally honest, which rubs everyone the wrong way."_

 _"_ _How'd you even get in?" she asked, though she had a pretty good guess._

 _"_ _Doggie door," Marco admitted, "Armin said it was the best way to not trigger the alarm."_

 _Annie blinked, slowly closing her laptop. "…did you say you talked to Armin?"_

 _Marco's smile and kind demeanor vanished, replaced with seriousness and a nod. "Which brings me to why I'm here," he said, "I need your help."_

"…he broke into my house too," Annie decided.

"I told him to use the doggie door like me," Armin whined from the back.

Eren raised an eyebrow. "You should get that thing uninstalled," he said, "because I'm sensing a bit of a pattern here…"

"What about you, Yeager?" Annie countered, "You're the one who's trying to save him in the first place…"

Before he can sputter incoherently, Annie looked like she remembered something. "Here," she said, tossing a giant bag of Reese's Pieces at him.

The bag landed with a thump and a muffled "ow".

"That's for you," Annie said, "you've been through hell and back several times now, you deserve a break…"

Armin made an indecipherable squeal of delight then a cry of pain.

"What the hell did you just do?" Eren demanded, glancing up at the rearview mirror.

"I forgot I'm bleeding out," Armin said sheepishly, "I can't feel my arms and it fell on my face."

Eren sailed straight through a red light, remembering what the hell they were doing in the first place.


	8. Memories

_"_ _How_ dare _you stoop down to that jock's level!" his Aunty screamed, "I raised you better than that! Can't you do_ anything _right!?"_

 _The boy stared down at the ground, shame and blonde hair covering his eyes. "I-it was self defense…"_

 _"_ _You're lucky they didn't sue!" she continued, "Why would you do something like that—!?"_

 _"_ _I said it was self defense!" the boy shouted back._

 _The moment the words left him he instantly regretted it._

 _"_ _That's it," his aunt said, "you're going to time out."_

 _"_ _Auntie—" he started, but he knew it was no use. He hasn't been there in_ years _, and he was hoping against hope to keep it that way._

 _He didn't bother fighting this time as his aunt dragged him to the closet and shoved him inside._

 _"_ _You're spending every weekend in here," she declared, "all the way up until summer—then you're spending_ every day _in here until the next school year starts. Understood?"_

 _"_ _Yes Auntie," he murmured, his face and voice expressionless._

 _She looked down at him and sneered. "If only your parents could see you," she muttered, "they'd be turning in their graves."_

 _The door slammed, and the boy sat there in darkness. The light had gone out during the last time he was in here, and his aunt made it a point to not get it fixed just so being trapped in here would be even worse._

 _The darkness wasn't really the problem, but it was how alone he was. He hated being alone with his thoughts—when he was little he used to love going off to little, secluded places to just think or read, but now his thoughts were filled with loathing—directed at both himself and everyone else._

 _And then came the memories._

 ** _People were dying around him like flies as he sped through the sky on his 3DMG. He tried not to look, but these were all people he knew, people he cared about._**

 _He remembered his parents, if only barely—they were always smiling around him, ruffling his hair, telling him how cute and smart he was, that they loved him._

 ** _Suddenly a titan yanked on the line, causing him to spiral out of control. He didn't have time to get his bearings when he found himself sliding down a dark, fleshy throat._**

 _His grandfather used to bring him books on all kinds of things, mostly about the ocean. Though he wanted to be a psychologist, there was something hypnotic about the steady, untamable waves of the sea._

 ** _The stomach acid burned him, and he screamed for help, though he knew it was futile. This always happened to him—he gets eaten, but he never dies. He somehow survives and is vomited back into reality, only to return back into the stomach of another._**

 _He vaguely remembered having friends when he was young, but only two. One of them was angry most of the time, while the other always stayed by their side._

 ** _His friends never came back, but he always asks. He hopes that he was wrong, that it was a nightmare, that they're not gone._**

 _When his parents died everything went downhill. His aunt resented him, and his grandfather was shoved into a senior home so he wouldn't further influence him._

 ** _After his grandfather's death all he had was his friends—his friends that are long dead._**

 _He didn't have anyone to turn to after he moved._

 ** _He didn't have anyone at all._**

 _The blonde found himself screaming for help again._

 ** _He'd have to help himself. No one would save a dead man._**

 _Taking the blade, he attempted to cut through the flesh of the titan._

 ** _He didn't want to let himself rot in here anymore._**

 _Suddenly his hand shot out through the skin, fire stabbing his hands and forearms._

 ** _He pulled himself out, not caring about the splinters his body suffered._**

 _The pain was nonexistent to him as he finally escaped, free to die again._

 ** _He wanted to cry, to scream and curse at the hell he was born into._**

 _He refrained from crying out—it would only show weakness._

 ** _Those who showed weakness were beaten by the strong._**

 _And so he laughed instead._

"Stop that!" Annie shouted suddenly, reaching back and hitting the blonde behind her.

"W-what is he doing?" Eren asked, glancing at the rearview mirror.

"He's scratching his arms again," the blonde woman muttered, unbuckling her seatbelt and leaning towards the back. " _Armin_! Stop it!"

The light scratching sound he just noticed was there stopped abruptly, and Eren stiffened.

And then came the giggling.

"I—I'm sorry—" Armin choked out as he laughed insanely, "I—I'm t-t-trying—!"

Suddenly That Dick Jean's house came into view, and Eren almost wept in relief.

"We're at Marco's house," Eren said, "Y-you guys are friends, right?"

"Eren he's _laughing_ not _crying_ ," Annie shot back.

He honestly wasn't sure about that, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

Either way the giggles faded into nothing and Armin—now sitting up—looked down at his knees as as he took a shaky breath and said two words Eren wasn't expecting to hear:

"Kill me."

Annie spun towards Eren, eyes wide.

"I'll explain later," the brunette promised, "Annie, lend him your hoodie."

Annie did as she was told and Armin put it on without showing any emotion on his face. After ushering him to the porch Eren was about to knock when Annie grabbed his hand.

"I just realized one fatal flaw in this plan," she said.

Eren furrowed his eyebrows. "What is it?!"

The blonde girl sighed. "What if _Jean_ opens the door and not Marco.

…Shit.

"We have no choice," Eren decided, "we have nowhere else to go—we both have roommates."

"People should get places of their own," Annie muttered, crossing her arms and shivering. She was wearing nothing but a tank top, and Eren kind of felt bad that he forced her to give up her hoodie.

The brunette exhaled. "Alright then," Eren said, holding his hand up to the door. "Here goes nothing.


	9. Lay Me Down to Sleep

And thus nothing went.

"Are they not home?" Annie asked as Eren began to pound on the door, "because if not we're fucked."

"OPEN DAMMIT!" Eren shouted, "I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE!"

"No you don't," Annie pointed out, "The lights are off."

Before Eren can retort back, the door swung open and a disgruntled Jean stood there, shirtless and eye patch-less.

Nobody moved.

"Wait…is that…?" Jean trailed off, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Yes," Annie interrupted, "And he's currently bleeding out and on the verge of snapping so let us in."

Eren didn't have time to respond as Annie shoved past Jean, dragging a silent Armin behind her.

"Is Marco home?" Eren asked.

"Yep," Jean replied, causing a wave of panic to course through the brunette, "but he'll be fine with it, I'm sure. I for one don't care as long as I don't get arrested…"

… _what?_

"Everyone _loves_ Armin, huh?" Eren asked sarcastically, making his way inside when Jean made way for him.

"It seems so," Jean replied just as dryly, stepping into the living room with him. Meanwhile Annie had taken her hoodie back and was inspecting Armin's torn arms.

"Armin," she said, taking his bloody hands into hers. "Are you okay?"

He suddenly pushed her away and stood, pacing the room. "No," he said bluntly, " But I should go—"

"Oh no you don't!" Eren interrupted, "I didn't go through all of this trouble for you to self destruct again!"

"Why the hell do you care!?" Armin screamed suddenly, "After everything I did—why are you being nice to me!? It makes no sense!"

"Does it have to?" I demanded, "Murderer or not, you're still a human being—!"

"Eren—" Jean tried.

He was interrupted by a laugh. "Me? _Human_!? My humanity died with my sanity!" the blonde shot back.

"That's what you keep telling yourself!" the brunette shouted, "Because you're too weak to acknowledge that you need _help_!"

It was as if the universe stopped. Armin looked like he had just been slapped, Jean looked horrified, and Annie was slowly backing out of the room, eyes wide.

"W…weak…." Armin's look of shock morphed into a terrifying smile. "Y-y-you don't understand…"

He began to giggle, and Eren realized that he had made a horrible mistake.

"Y-you don't know what it's like…" he continued, falling on to his knees. "…everyone around me dies… _everyone_ …" another laugh. "…b-being alone means not getting hurt! I-I can't kill people I care about if I don't care about them, right?! What's the point if I just end up killing them anyway!? Haven't I suffered enough!?"

"Armin—" Annie interjected, trying to reach for him.

Armin shoved her away. "Y-you can't see _them_!" he screamed, "I-I have to kill them so they won't hurt me anymore!"

Eren backed away, realizing that his constant screaming was going to wake everyone up—as well as the fact that Armin's train of thought seemed to have derailed off a cliff. First he was talking about his trauma, but _seeing things_? This must have ran even deeper than he first thought…

Then again, this _did_ turn him into a mass murderer, didn't it?

"I-I'm _sorry_!" he wailed, grabbing his arms and tearing at him with his nails. "A- _Auntie_ _LET ME OUT_!"

Now officially scared shitless as well as completely confused, Eren looked at Annie, who was staring right back at him.

 _What do we do?_ He mouthed.

Annie shook her head, clearly as confused and terrified as him.

"Look at what you did Yeager," Jean muttered, "H-how do we stop him?"

Suddenly loud music with equally deafening bass blasted from the TV.

"Marco!" Jean cried, "What the fuck is happening!?"

Eren turned to the freckled brunette, who unfortunately looked as lost as everyone else.

"I have no idea," he called over the music, "but at least the music will cover his screaming…"

The green-eyed brunette turned back to Armin, who had actually ceased screaming.

"Well," Marco said, turning down the music. "I think that might have helped a bit…"

"I…I'm sorry," he whispered, eyes dead and emotionless. "I…I shouldn't…" He laughed again, albeit weakly.

Sighing, Eren knelt down to him and tilted his head up by the chin to look him in the eye.

"Armin," he said seriously, "it's okay to cry in front of us."

"Eren…" Annie trailed off.

Armin's eyes widened as he stared at the brunette. "W-what?"

"You've cried in front of me before," he continued, "and I'm willing to bet you cried in Annie's presence too, huh?"

"I…I…" the blonde's eyes had begun to sparkle with tears and something else Eren couldn't quite name.

"I know you may think it's a sign of weakness, but having a stick up your ass and refusing help is also weakness too," Eren finished elegantly.

It looked like he was actually going to cry and let it all out as Eren recognized the sparkle in his eyes.

It was hope.

But as suddenly as it appeared, it withered and died.

Armin jerked his head away from his hand. "No," he murmured, "I-I can't fall for that again…"

Eren was taken aback by the unexpected reaction. "Armin—"

"Every time I get close to someone I hurt them…" the blonde continued, voice monotone and eyes devoid of life. "…because they hurt me…they always say that they want to help, but they just throw me back into _their_ jaws to be devoured whole to save their skin…"

Thankfully Annie stepped forward when Eren was sitting there gaping like a fish. "Armin," she said, "let me look at your arms."

The blonde blinked and drew away from her. "Why?"

"You're bleeding out," Annie said, "and I'll be damned if I'm going to let you bleed to death."

Eren was starting to feel unsettled by the dead look in Armin's eyes as he stared at his torn arms.

"It'd be a peaceful death," he commented, "like falling asleep…"

Annie looked just as unnerved as Eren felt. "I thought you were afraid of death."

"I…" the blonde continued to stare as he let out a weak laugh. "…I thought I was too."

"Alright," Jean interrupted, "let's put a hold on all of this morbid talk and patch you up, alright?"

Armin stared as Jean took one of his arms and suddenly dabbed it with rubbing alcohol he had readied earlier.

He didn't respond.

Noticing this, Jean decided to talk anyway. "I know rubbing alcohol is a bitch but bear with it," he said, "its cleaning the wound."

Still no reply.

While Jean cleaned Armin's arms,, Eren was trying to make sense of the entire situation. Of _all_ the people in the room, _Jean_ had taken the initiative to clean the serial killer's wounds?

 _Everybody_ loves _Armin, huh?_

First Marco, then Annie, and now Jean? What the hell was _happening_? Even _he_ was feeling sympathetic to the murderer, and he didn't know why. He had thought it was him apologizing that day in the bookstore, but he realized that it was much more than that—he was genuinely insane, but it's becoming clear that he doesn't _want_ to be insane. He's obviously in pain, but is obviously too afraid to show it—until that night in the garage, that is. He wasn't even supposed to _witness_ that, but Armin surely would have died if he wasn't there.

And let's not forget the hallucinations he was talking about earlier…

 _I have to kill them so they don't hurt me._

 _They say that they care about me, but they just throw me back into_ their _jaws to be devoured to save their asses._

 _Don't put me in time out._

Suddenly it clicked.

"Annie," Eren said, "I need to talk to you."

"Well I'm right here," Annie replied, glancing at him suspiciously.

He glanced at the blonde, and she nodded. "The kitchen," she said, not even waiting for him as she disappeared into the next room.

Having no other choice, Eren followed.


	10. Innocent

**Or: In which Eren and Annie try to solve the rubik's cube that is Armin's Mind**

 **I felt like the plot couldn't really progress without a chapter mostly dedicated to people trying to understand where Armin was coming from, so this chapter is kinda slow, and a chunk of it is Eren recounting chapters 3 and 9, so bear with him- _but_ there _is_ a surprise twist at the end, so READ TO THE END!**

 **JUST...**

 _ **...DO IT!**_

 _ **(Wow I actually remembered to put line breaks in this chapter XD)**_

Annie didn't know what the hell was happening.

The only reason he had followed Yeager to Kirschtein's house was because her psychopathic boyfriend could have been going to the police station for all she knew, and she wanted to help Armin get better in any way she could.

Not stand there uselessly as he tore himself apart, screaming for mercy.

"Alright Yeager," Annie said, crossing her arms and hiding her turbulent feelings behind a steely glare. "What is it?"

Eren paused for a moment, as if trying to figure out how to word his thoughts. "I…I think I've figured out part of his problem."

"So did I," Annie replied dryly, "Then he threatened to kill me the other day."

"Wait a sec—you swore up and down that wasn't him!" Eren accused.

The blonde sighed. "Well he saved me from being mugged and raped," she explained, "but he wanted to kill him so he demanded that I leave."

"Oh…" the brunette thought for a moment. "Well anyway, remember when he said that he kills because he can?"

Annie nodded. "He just doesn't have a conscience. He only cares about himself—"

"And that's there you're wrong," Eren interrupted, "He's not as inhuman as he tries to paint himself to be."

 _I'm inhuman._

Annie turned away from him to hide the unshed tears in her eyes. "How do you know that?"

She heard Eren exhale. "I still haven't told you how I…how he ended up in my car."

"Oh yeah," she said, turning back around and schooling her expression. "You still need to explain that—unless you're trying to get him patched up before turning him in?"

"No, I…" Eren sighed again. "I first saw him again at Marco's bookstore when getting something for Mikasa, and he almost fell apart in front of me—he kept crying about not putting him in time out or something."

Annie raised an eyebrow. "Now he sounds like a spoiled kid," she commented.

Eren rolled his eyes. " _Anyway_ , I ended up comforting him and we went our separate ways…"

The brunette shuffled awkwardly, not meeting her gaze. "Then I…I recognized the license plate on my stolen car today, and I followed him out to that destroyed part of town that's abandoned by even hoboes now."

It took her a moment, but then she remembered where he was talking about. There had been a fire a few years ago and it had destroyed a portion of Trost—she had actually helped cover the fire for work and wrote about it in Maria Monthly.

"Yeah," she said with a nod, "I'm surprised the cops hadn't checked there first."

Eren shrugged. "Well, we ended up in a parking garage by the old movie theater, and he…I…"

Annie's stomach turned with apprehension. "What, Yeager?" she bit out impatiently.

"I…he went inside," Eren continued, "and…and he began to scream for his 'Aunty' to let him out. I made it over there…and…"

" _And…_?"

There was a long pause, and Eren shook his head, eyes wide. "He…he had begun to beat his head against one of the concrete pillars. I pulled him away and knocked some sense into him, but I'm pretty sure he would be dead right now if I hadn't saved him then…"

Annie stopped listening.

 _I thought you were afraid of dying._

 _…_ _I thought I was too._

"Annie," Eren said, bringing her back to harsh reality. "That's not all."

"I thought you were stupid," Annie muttered, "why couldn't you be stupid?"

Eren stared at her for a moment and sighed. "Ignorance is bliss, isn't it?" he replied, "But—stupid or not—my dad was a doctor…I've just never psychoanalyzed him before now because I thought I hated him."

Annie let out a humorless laugh. "'Thought'?"

"Yeah," Eren said, chuckling to himself. However, as soon as his smile appeared, it vanished into thin air. "But…he was _bleeding_ _out_ _in_ _front_ _of_ _me_ , Annie. He looked so…so… _innocent._ "

 _Innocent_.

That was one word she never would have _ever_ used to describe Armin Arlert.

"Before he passed out from blood loss," Eren continued, "When he was screaming, I panicked and slapped him to knock some sense into him. He stopped screaming, but…"

Trying not to be offended, Annie moved her hand in an impatient rolling gesture.

"He…he began giggling again," Eren finished. "He just wouldn't stop, but shaking him roughly got him back to…his normal self, but he was clawing at his arms again."

 _It's okay to cry in front of us._

Everything finally started to fall into place. "He's scared of feeling weak," Annie said slowly, "So he kills people 'because he can'…and he won't cry in front of people…"

Eren nodded in agreement, and Annie shook her head. Now that she thought about it, she had only seen him cry once, that day when she visited him in jail—it wasn't even full on crying, but a single, muffled sob. It still counts somewhat, but they had long since gotten close to each other…

"But you said that he cried in front of you," Annie pointed out, "So…"

Eren scratched his head. "He had begun spiraling out of control, but he wasn't gripping his arms—the pain may keep him grounded, but I don't know—he was gripping the broom handle instead, but then he dropped it and almost began screaming like he did at the garage…and just now."

Annie ran a hand through her bangs, not sure how to feel about all of the new information. She had no idea Eren had been able to read the atmosphere in a room, let alone a psychopath's potential thought process and defense mechanisms.

"How did you find all this out?" she asked, meaning to sound demanded but ended up sounding tired instead.

"Just…observation," Eren replied, "I just never gave anyone so much thought as I have Armin—he's… _enigmatic_ , to put it nicely."

Somehow, Annie found it in her to laugh. "I didn't even know you knew such big words."

The two laughed, but stopped when the door swung open.

"Hey," Jean called, "Marco wants to talk."

* * *

 _"_ _Honestly, the worst thing Amelia could have done was leave me with that boy," the man's daughter growled as she sat on the couch with an irritated expression._

 _"_ _I come back from the old folks' home for this?" the man asked, settling himself down on the old, familiar armchair. "It's a good thing I didn't come until next week like planned. Honestly Amber, did you try to hear the boy's side?"_

 _"_ _It's not_ my _fault that facility is trying to con me into giving them more money" Amber muttered._

 _"_ _You're avoiding the question."_

 _Amber sighed, but to the man it sounded like a growl. "Why should I listen to him?" she demanded, "he's in the wrong, like always!"_

 _It was the man's turn to sigh. "Amber," he started, "don't tell me you're pushing him too far. That's the reason that your husband left—"_

 _"_ Don't _," Amber warned._

 _"_ _Amber," her father said sternly, "where is my grandson?"_

 _Amber looked away._

 _"_ Amber _," the man repeated, standing._

 _"_ _He's in the closet under the stairs," she relented, "he's to stay there all weekend."_

 _The man felt rage strengthen his bones as he rushed to the closet. His daughter shouted something and followed him._

 _"_ _Dad!" she yelled, "Leave him…be…"_

 _The door was whittled to pieces, and the lock was all but broken off its hinges. There was blood everywhere, and there was a trail of it leading into the kitchen._

 _"_ _Good god woman," he said taking in the scene before him, "what have you done to my grandson!?"_

 _He turned on his daughter, who was pale as a ghost. "I…I…"_

 _Suddenly there was giggling, and they both turned towards the kitchen._

 _"_ _You stay here," he ordered, "I'll go handle him."_

 _"_ _No!"Amber replied, "Dad you'll get hurt!"_

 _"_ _You've done enough damage to my grandson!" the man shouted, "Amelia would be turning in her grave because of you!"_

 _The giggle got even louder, and the fear took away his previously acquired strength. The sound itself was innocent sounding—similar to how he sounded when he was younger. However Amelia's affection with horror movies has taught him that innocent laughter was a very,_ very _bad thing._

 _"_ _I'm sorry papa," Amber said quietly, "I-I'll try to talk to him."_

 _The man really didn't want Amber near him, but he had to steady himself with the wall and catch his breath, terror reminding him of his old age. Taking the silence as a yes, she stalked inside._

* * *

Before the memory could complete itself, something jarred the person awake.

"Mr. Arlert?" the nurse said, "It's time for your medicine."

The old man rubbed his eyes. "Is it?" he asked numbly, "Alright then."

"You also have a visitor," she said, "you'll get to see him after the medication sets in."

"Really?" Mr. Arlert asked, genuinely confused. His grandson wouldn't come visit, so who would? "May I ask who it is?"

The nurse nodded. "It's a…Dr. Smith.


	11. Friends

**Alright so I'm updating so fast because I knew that if I didn't finish the conversation on Armin's complex character I'd forget where the hell this story was going in the first place :P so EXTRA FAST UPDATE FOR U :3**

"Where's Armin?" Eren asked as they returned to the living room

Marco was sitting on the couch, a hand running through his hair. "He ended up falling asleep, so he's in the guest room. That's why I think now's the time to talk."

"I was just talking to Annie a moment ago," Eren replied, "I think we have a handle on what's going on to him."

"And how the hell do you know that?" Jean demanded tiredly, leaning against the wall. "Didn't he torture Mikasa? Why are _you_ of all people trying to help him?"

The brunette sighed. That's what he's been trying to figure out this entire time. "I…I've ran into him a couple other times…"

Marco nodded for him to continue, and Eren explained the night he found him at the bookstore as well as tonight at the garage. Even the second time around he still found it hard to believe— _him_ of all people helping a deranged serial killer.

"Mina told me about the time in the bookstore," Marco agreed, "but when you were in the garage…it only proves me right."

"B-but _how_ exactly is he getting worse?" Annie asked, "I mean, if he wasn't like this before—which you claim he wasn't—then what's making him act like this?"

"Wait," Eren said, turning to Annie. "You said Marco broke into your house too. What happened?"

"Hey I went through the doggie door like a gentleman," Marco said defensively, "But I had told Annie about this earlier because Armin had talked about how close he was to her, and it seems like I was right to do so."

That didn't answer his question. "So what's this about getting worse?"

Marco sighed. "He…you know how before he used to treat everything like some sort of game?"

 _So what you're saying is that you ignore your conscience?_

 _No, I simply don't have one._

Eren finally began to understand. "It's guilt," he whispered.

"Hah?" Jean asked, "What do you mean 'guilt'? You said he didn't have a conscience!"

"He said his entire family's dead," Annie said, "And since—excluding us of course…I think—he has no friends, he doesn't fear anyone he cares about being affected."

 _Being alone means not getting hurt!_

 _I can't kill people I care about if I don't care about them, right?_

Jean nodded in understanding. "But then suddenly _we_ come along and show him happiness, and now he's starting to feel like shit?"

"…sure," Marco agreed, "He's starting to feel guilty, but the problem is that he's done so much it's tearing him apart—and there's still the part of him that wants to kill people."

Eren rubbed his forehead. "How the hell did this even happen?" he asked, "I mean, what made him think that he shouldn't kill anyway?"

When everyone stared at him, he realized how that sounded. "N-not that it's a bad thing," he amended, "but…I just wish he wasn't so damn complicated!"

"You called him enigmatic earlier," Annie pointed out, "as a compliment, no less."

"Yeah, he's a very interesting person," Marco agreed, "He brought all of us together to care for a psychopath."

The room was silent as everyone pondered that statement.

Eren couldn't stand Jean and was more or less intimidated by Annie, but here they were with Marco who's also recently gotten out of prison—though through more legal means…

"That's where you're wrong," Jean said, breaking the silence. "Eren wouldn't have started caring for him if you hadn't let him into your bookstore—and though Armin and Annie may have been close before, you still crawled through her damn doggie door to tell her what was going on with Armin when she would have had no other way of knowing."

"He has a point," Eren said, "I had encountered him in _your_ bookstore, and when he was bleeding out I remembered that _you_ were kind to him."

"It sounds like _you_ brought us all together here, Marco," Annie said with a small smile.

The freckled brunette blushed. "Ah—I guess I did," he said, scratching his head. "I had gotten to know him in prison, so I guess we became friends…?"

"So we _are_ friends," Jean affirmed.

Eren found himself laughing. "That's what it looks like, yes."

Everyone else began to laugh, and Eren found himself staring in the direction of the guest room.

It was still hard to believe the person sleeping soundly a few rooms over is the same one who cut into his side and stuffed his address inside his _wound_ just to scare him—or the one who tortured his sister for the hell of it.

The hatred still flared, but it was significantly dulled. Sure, an apology didn't save his sister, but she was still functioning properly—if not a little more paranoid while alone.

 _Look at me_ , he thought, _am I really rationalizing his torturing my sister?_

"My life is a lie," he muttered, "I should head home. Are you two okay with taking care of him?"

"Sure, why the fuck not?" Jean asked, "Things aren't weird enough."

Eren took a menacing step forward, but Marco stood. "He means that it'll be fine."

"Tch," Eren muttered, "Annie, I'm driving you home, right?"

"I sure as hell am not walking," was her response.

The brunette nodded. "Alright," he said, "I need sleep after all this shit."

Everyone nodded in agreement.

"So you're the one who locked up my grandson," Mr. Arlert said, leaning back in his recliner.

Dr. Smith reminded the old man of himself when he was younger—blonde hair, thick eyebrows, and vast intelligence lurking under pleasant blue eyes. He was wearing a suit and tie, but he didn't fail to see the prosthetic arm hiding underneath his right sleeve.

He distrusted him immediately.

Instead of trying to justify himself, he merely said, "Yes, yes I am."

Mr. Arlert narrowed his eyes behind his glasses.

"Now, Mr. Arlert," Dr. Smith said, "I actually wanted to talk to you about your grandson. I need your help."

"He isn't crazy," the old man snapped, "anyone would snap if pushed too far."

A vivid image of his daughter holding his four year old grandson in her arms caused a twinge of longing in his heart. _Poor Amelia,_ he thought, _things would certainly be better if she was still alive…_

He knew it was bad to pick favorites, but Amelia's free, curious spirit had always made him smile. Amber's perfectionism also made him smile at times, but by the time she had grown up it had become almost oppressive. He loved them both, but secretly he did like Amelia a little more…

 _Maybe it was easier to think that because she's dead_ , he thought.

"Mr. Arlert?"

The old man broke from his reverie. "O-oh," he said sheepishly, itching the back of his head, "I'm sorry…my mind kinda wanders at this old age…"

"It's alright," Dr. Smith said patiently, "as I was saying, I would like you to bait your grandson into coming back to the asylum."

Mr. Arlert glared at him. "He hasn't visited in years," he replied, "and even if he did I wouldn't do that to him." He wasn't Amber. He didn't blame him, but he couldn't bring himself to hate Amber either.

 _I'm just glad she's still alive,_ he thought.

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

Sensing the doctor's piqued curiosity, the old man changed the subject. "May I ask how you were intending to bring him here?"

Noticing the topic change, Dr. Smith pushed up his glasses in a subtle action of disapproval. "I need you to fake your death."

"So you can catch him at my funeral," Mr. Arlert finished, with a huff. "Of course."

"Glad to see that we're on the same page," Dr. Smith replied with a smile, "now—"

"No," the old man interrupted, "I'm not on the same page. I just took a peek at one of your pages and decided to burn the entire book."

The doctor's eyebrows furrowed at his analogy. "And…why is that, may I ask?"

"I'm not going to put my grandson through any more pain," he replied sternly, "he's been through enough, and I don't care what you say about him—he's a good boy."

"And what exactly has he been through?" Dr. Smith asked, eyes glinting. "That would be something I would like to know."

Mr. Arlert truly was starting to hate this man. "Why?" he demanded, "so you can use his worst nightmares against him?"

"Yes," was the immediate reply.

Now he _did_ truly hate this man.

"Your grandson is smart," Dr. Smith continued, "but we need to use his _emotions_ against him—they tend to cloud even a genius' judgment. If you were to 'die'—"

" _No_ ," Mr. Arlert said resolutely, "You're just going to throw him into a straight jacket and into one of those padded rooms, and that's only going to make it worse."

"And why is that?" Dr. Smith asked yet again.

The old man was seriously considering punching the younger one's teeth in. "Why do you care about my grandson so much? Isn't he just another criminal to you?"

The young man pushed up his glasses again. "Your grandson interests me," he admitted, "I want to figure out how he works—what goes through his head. I psychoanalyze criminals on a regular basis, but your grandson is…well he's something I've _never_ seen before—and trust me, I have seen a _lot_. He's not like a normal bipolar patient—he truly is in his right mind when he kills, but he's still—as you said—a 'good boy' with normal human tendencies like hobbies and such. He's very, _very_ intelligent, and life just seems like a game to him and he's just absolutely unwilling to lose—it would break him completely."

Mr. Arlert narrowed his eyes. "And?"

Dr. Smith looked back up at him, a grin on his face as his prosthetic hand tightened into a fist.

"I want to break him."

 **Very few stories have Erwin (Ervin? Irvin? Irwin? Commander Eyebrows) as an antagonist, so I thought WHY THE FUCK NOT BECAUSE THINGS AREN'T WEIRD ENOUGH :D**


	12. Business as Usual

"Hey, did you hear?" Connie asked over the cubicle, "You know Dr. Smith? The guy that's in charge of the asylum?"

"Yeah, what about him?" Eren asked, leaning back in his chair. "Did he find Arlert?"

Annie noted that he was no longer calling Armin "runt" or "ass" or some other derogatory word, but merely by his surname. "Doubt it," Annie replied, "that would have been _everywhere_."

"No no, that's not it," Connie said, "He was beaten with a cane by Armin's grandfather!"

The blonde woman looked up from her desk. "Wait…what?"

"Wow, even Annie's interested," Sasha said, laughing.

"I'm just confused," she muttered, turning back to her work. "Why the hell would he be talking to his grandfather?"

"And what did he say to piss him off so badly?" Sasha put in.

"I dunno," Eren replied, glancing at Annie. "Maybe it has something to do with his grandson."

"No _shit_ Yeager!" Jean called.

"Hey shut the fuck _up_ Kirchstein!"

"Both of you shut the fuck up and go back to work!" Levi called.

Connie snickered, and the rest went back to 'work'.

However, conversation persisted. "But seriously," Eren said, "Why was he over there? Was he trying to ask him about his grandson?"

"Probably," Connie replied, "though neither would say. The orderlies at the old folk's home were super shocked—said that it was the most energy he's exerted in the past five or so years!"

"Anger can do wonders to a person," Mikasa murmured, looking straight at her brother.

"Shut up Mikasa," Eren muttered.

"Don't be mean because she's right," Jean argued, "Right Mikasa?"

"Eren, are we still going to dinner tonight?"

Jean visibly deflated.

"Yes," he said proudly, "and I don't give a _shit_ about what you say, _I'm_ paying!"

"But Eren—"

"Just let him be a gentleman for once in his life!" Sasha piped up, "You don't see it very often, so you should enjoy it while you can!"

Mikasa gave a tiny smile. "Okay."

Eren puffed out his chest and grinned proudly.

Annie merely groaned at the commotion her coworkers were making. After everything that had just happened, going about life as usual was… _unusual_. She felt out of place, and judging by the lack of physical fighting by Eren and Jean is proof that they're just as put off by last night's events as well—Annie would even go as far to say that they're trying to learn to get along…

The moment she thought that, she snorted softly to herself. No power in the universe can get those two to get along if their lives depended on it.

"Hey guys," Connie said suddenly, "I wonder if Armin will come back on the grid after somehow hearing about his grandfather."

All levity in the room vanished.

Armin hasn't appeared once since he vanished from prison—not publicly to the world anyway. She was sure the book was from him because that would be something he would do, but Bert and Reiner must have come in when he put it in there and had to run off…

Secret appearances aside, Annie really had no idea how Armin will react to the news about his grandfather, especially since he's been acting really different lately…

 _Kill me._

"That's a good question," Eren said, no longer smiling. He had an odd expression on his face that Annie couldn't quite place.

Mikasa scowled darkly. "I'll kill him if he touches you Eren."

"Mikasa—"

"Just accept her protection Yeager!" Jean shouted, "Not all of us can be that lucky!"

"Jean shut the fuck up!" Levi shouted back, "Mikasa isn't into you!"

The entire office erupted into laughter as Jean shrunk back into his cubicle.

"Morning sleepyhead," Jean said playfully, "You look good today."

Armin looked like shit. Jean had arrived from work and had the urge to cook breakfast food when the blonde arose from the deep recesses of the guestroom. He had bags under his eyes, which still had the same lifeless gaze it had yesterday, not to mention the scars and bandages showing under his borrowed short-sleeved T-shirt. It looked like he hasn't eaten in about as long as he'd gone without sleep, making him look extremely thin and frail—Jean was afraid the slightest breeze might carry him with it.

 _Think positive, Jean_ , he thought to himself. "I hope the clothes aren't too big," he said, groping for something— _anything_ to say. "They're mine, but we can go shopping sometime if you want."

Armin replied with a yawn.

"Are you hungry?" Jean tried again, "I just finished cooking steak and eggs."

"…I'm vegetarian," the blonde finally murmured, rubbing his eyes. "But I'll take some eggs, please."

Jean sighed but smiled nonetheless. _It's a start_. "What made you a vegetarian?" he asked, filling a plate up with eggs. Unlike Marco, all Jean knew about the kid—or _man_ , since Yeager claims he's twenty-something (not that he buys it)—is that flaying people is his hobby. It wouldn't hurt to get to know him a bit…

"I ate someone," was the blunt reply, "didn't like it."

The brunette almost dropped the plate. "M-my bad," he said shakily, not expecting _that_ to be the reason—though it _did_ make sense. "Y-you don't mind bell peppers, do you?"

Armin just shook his head.

"Well they're in the eggs," Jean continued as Armin sat down at the kitchen island, "Just making sure you weren't allergic to anything."

Jean found himself holding his breath as Armin picked at his food. "…this is how my mom used to make eggs."

"R…really?" Jean asked tentatively, "that's how my mom too. What a coincidence!"

He laughed nervously, and Armin gazed at him with dead yet analyzing eyes.

When Jean realized he was holding his breath, Armin sat down the fork. "Look," he said, "if you want me to disappear, then I will."

It took the brunette a second to comprehend that statement. When he did, Jean sighed. "That's not it," he replied, setting down the spatula. "It's not my damn fault I have no idea how to act around a serial killer…"

"Jean."

The sternness in the blonde's voice startled Jean. "W-what?"

Armin was still scrutinizing every flicker of moment his eyes made. "Are you afraid of me?"

Having no idea how to respond, Jean spoke without thinking. "W-what the hell kind of question is that?" he demanded, "Of _course_ I am! I don't know whether you're going to go nuts or not—and if you do I don't know who'll die first, you or me!"

There was a pause, and Jean couldn't believe what just came out of his mouth. "I-I mean—"

He was cut off by giggling, and he feared for his life. _I pissed him off, didn't I?_

"Marco was right," Armin laughed as he took another bite of his food, "You really _do_ speak without thinking."

 _Wait a second…_

"Was…was that a genuine laugh?" Jean asked tentatively, not quite sure what just happened.

"…I guess so," the blonde affirmed, "I haven't done that in a while…I guess laughter really _is_ the best medicine."

Jean nodded slowly, not trusting himself to speak. _Well,_ he thought, _I guess we can call that progress, right?_

"I'm…I'm gonna shower," Jean said finally, "Just…enjoy your food."

"…thanks," was the reply.

The brunette looked back at the blonde, and his eyes were a lot less dead-looking—they were still unsettling and full of exhaustion, but they still sparkled with a twinge of life.

 _Yeah,_ Jean thought as he went to his shower, _definitely progress._


	13. Marco Learns the Way to Armin's Heart

Jean stared at the large pile of stuffed animals lying in the living room.

"You like?" Marco asked, grinning. "I got the idea when I passed Toys R Us on my way home from work!"

"…but _why_?" Annie, whom had decided to pay her boyfriend a visit, asked in bewilderment.

Eren, who drove Annie here, picked up a stuffed orca. "…therapy?"

Marco nodded, smiling proudly. "I'll tell you when he comes in!"

"When who comes in?" a tired voice asked by the doorway.

Jean jumped. He keeps forgetting that there's someone else living here now…

"Armin!" Marco said enthusiastically, "Come on in! I have a surprise for you!"

The blonde stayed by the doorway. "…what is it?"

The two-toned brunette sighed. "Telling you defeats the purpose. Come in and see."

"…no."

"It's soft and fluffy," Eren tried.

"Like a padded room," was Armin's response.

 _He really does_ not _like surprises,_ Jean noted to himself.

"They're a bunch of stuffed animals," Annie said finally.

"Annie…" Marco whined.

However, the blonde finally came into the room and stared at the pile of animals. "…why?"

Sighing but smiling nonetheless, Marco explained. "It's a stress-relieving tool! See?"

He knelt down to the pile of animals. "Let's see…what animal do you _not_ like?"

"I…I guess I don't care for monkeys…" Armin said reluctantly, "…why?"

"Well…"

Everyone backed away from Marco when he suddenly produced a knife. "You can brutally mutilate monkeys and take your anger out on stuffed animals! Give it a try!"

Jean couldn't believe his best friend's train of thought. " _Really_?"

"That…that makes sense," Eren said, "I…I think…"

Annie remained silent.

"Okay…?" Armin looked just as confused as Jean felt as he took the stuffed animal from Marco.

"Go on," Marco urged gently.

The blonde looked down at the monkey, then the knife. Then, in one fluid motion, he brought the knife down, impaling it right through the stomach. Cotton bled from the fake mammal, and he still looked confused.

"…this feels wrong," he said finally.

Marco sighed as Jean face palmed. "I _knew_ I should have gotten stuffed human dolls…"

"Well I guess we're donating all of these," Eren said, tossing the orca back into the pile.

Suddenly stuffed animals went flying as Armin dove into the pile after the orca.

"…okay…" Jean said slowly as the blonde cuddled the orca to his chest, "I take it you like orcas…?"

"I love _all_ sea animals," Armin replied defensively, searching the pile for what Jean bet were more sea animals. " _Especially_ manatees and orcas—all Cetaceans really! Whales, dolphins, sharks, though sharks technically belong to the broader category of Cetartiodactyla—"

"Armin—" Marco tried.

"But you can't forget all of the _other_ animals!" the blonde said, picking up a starfish. "Ooh! An _Asterias rubens_!"

"Eren," he murmured as Armin continued to search for sea animals, "how old did you say he was?"

"Twenty-two," he muttered back, "shocking right?"

Jean merely nodded in agreement.

Meanwhile Annie looked like she was about to have a heart attack. Her face was completely red, her eyes were saucers, and her breathing was erratic.

"Are you okay Annie?" Marco asked, alarmed.

"There's…there's _no_ way in _hell_ …"

"Whoa- _hey_!" Jean called out as Annie fell to her knees.

His cry finally attracted Armin's attention. "A-Annie?" he asked, eyes wide and cocking his head to the side. "Are you okay?"

"No," she said, startling everyone, "because there is _no_ way in _hell_ you're allowed to be as damn _cute_ as you are right now."

The blonde blinked, and Jean rubbed a hand over his face. "What the actual _fuck_ Annie?" he demanded, "I thought you were going to die!"

"It's not my fault I like sea animals…" Armin pouted, clutching a sting ray to his chest.

"Have you gone to the beach?" Eren asked, "Maybe we could—"

" _Really_!?" the blonde asked excitedly. However, his elation vanished. "But…won't people recognize me?"

"Not where _we're_ going," Jean piped up, suddenly getting an idea. "My mom is retired by a beach a ways from town. It'll be a bit of a drive, but if you _really_ want to go—"

Then without warning Armin latched himself to Jean's leg. " _Yes!_ " He cried, "I-I wouldn't even care if you turn me in afterwards if I get to see the beach just once! Even from a distance!"

The two-toned brunette blinked as the green-eyed one sighed. "We're not going to turn you in," he promised, "the beach is private, right?"

"Right," Jean affirmed, "and I honestly believe that my mom wouldn't even mind the fact that you're a—"

"W-we'll go this weekend, okay?" Marco said happily, "Since we'll get next Monday off for independence day."

"I still find it weird we celebrate a fictional holiday," Jean murmured, "I mean, there was no proof of titans, were there?"

Armin detached himself from Jean's leg, and noticed with dismay that all of his excitement vanished completely.

"S-so beach this weekend?" Marco repeated, trying to get the excitement back.

"Y-yeah!" Armin said, smiling again.

However, Jean noticed it was a bit forced and couldn't help but think about his episode a few days ago.

 _You can't see_ them _!_

Shaking his head, Jean patted the blonde on the head. "How about you guys sort through the stuffed animals for all the ones you like, and I'll cook us some dinner?"

"Make sure it's vegetarian," Annie said, picking up a stuffed walrus.

"He knows," Armin replied, eyeing said walrus.

Annie tossed the walrus at Armin, and he held it with the orca. "I've got this," Annie said with a smile. "Eren, go see what's on TV."

"R-right," he said, looking for the remote.

"I'll go help you in the kitchen," Marco said, smiling contently.

Jean nodded in approval as the both walked into the kitchen.

"Almost like a family," Jean muttered as he got out a pan, then said aloud to Marco, "We're making eggs with bell peppers with whatever the hell you want."

Marco blinked. "I-isn't that a breakfast food?" he asked, nonetheless getting out the eggs.

"Well…" Jean bit his lip to stop the smiling threatening to show on his face. "…he said that's how his mom made them, so I'll make them to make him happy."

"Aw, Jean…" Marco said, poking his side. "You've grown on him!"

"S-shut up," Jean muttered, face burning.

"I told you you'd like him," the freckled brunette gloated, "my freckles are never wrong!"

Try as he might, Jean couldn't think of a way to prove him wrong.

"Well you're looking well today," Dr. Smith commented, sitting down beside the hospital bed.

The person residing on said bed looked unrecognizably horrible—he was covered in bandages, bruises, and shame. Both his arms and his right leg had a cast on it, and overall he just looked plain miserable.

However, Dr. Smith was not one to talk—he had a cast on his remaining arm as well as a few bruises and bandages littered across his face. There were other injuries hidden beneath his suit, as well as a limp and a voice still an octave too high from when Armin's grandfather struck him where the sun doesn't shine.

 _Damn that old bastard_ , the doctor thought venomously to himself as he adjusted his glasses.

Meanwhile, the man in the bed somehow gathered the strength to glare at him.

"Now," Dr. Smith continued, composing his thoughts. "I want to strike a deal with you. There's a certain someone that I'm interested in, and you've seen him face to face—and fought him, correct?"

A nod.

"Brilliant," Dr. Smith said with a smile, "Perfect. Now, I have an idea that I need you to be at your best for—which I will go to great lengths to get you—and I promise you'll have something to gain as well."

His chin and mouth was covered in a bandage, but the look in his eyes and the tug of his cheeks hinted at a grin.

"There's money," the doctor explained, "and revenge, if you want that."

An aggressive nod.

Dr. Smith grinned as well. "Brilliant," he muttered, "Perfect."

He laughed to himself slightly, ignoring his host's stare. "I can finally get you, Armin Arlert," he whispered, "and break you."

 ***No stuffed animals were harmed in the making of this chapter***

 **Special Thanks to LolitaArmin129 for the idea! So no, he didn't go insane with the animals, but still, thanks XD**


	14. Shinganshina Senior Living Center, AA

"Shit."

Jean searched the house for the fifteenth time that day. "Armin," he hissed, "Armin this isn't funny! Where the hell are you?!"

When he got home their pet psychopath was nowhere to be found. The brunette was going ballistic with fear as he tore apart his house searching for him.

"Dammit!" Jean cursed, gripping the bathroom sink tightly. He had checked there multiple times, but he returned because he was quite literally becoming sick with worry.

Deciding to give up, Jean made his way to the shower. They usually helped him de-stress, but he was so stressed that he just stood there dejectedly, imagining the worst case scenarios.

 _What if he lost it again?_ He thought, _or what if he was just_ using _us?_

 _What if…what if he went and_ killed _himself?_

Jean slid down the shower wall and sat on the floor as he was assaulted by extremely depressing and slightly paranoid thoughts. If Armin hurt himself again, he wasn't sure he'd be able to live with himself…

 _But_ why _?_ He asked himself, _he's a_ murderer _for goodness' sake!_

Somehow, by the power of Marco's magic freckles, that kid had somehow wormed his way through his heart. He didn't know if it was when he was screaming for help or that day when he made him breakfast, but he'd grown close—not as close as Marco, Eren, or Annie, but still close enough to care for his well being. He didn't want the kid to get hurt, even though he'd hurt Mikasa and Eren quite badly…

He wondered what was going through _Eren's_ head—he seemed even more confused than _him_ , if that was possible…then again, both him _and_ his sister were victims to his cruelty, so his anger issues and grudge-holding were probably warring with kindness and wanting to help the damn kid.

…and Armin and Annie just somehow got along perfectly and are dating because why the fuck not?

Oh man, how does _Annie_ feel? She has the most complicated out of all of them—despite the cold exterior, she fell head over heels for Armin Arlert, which just made everything even worse. How do you reconcile your love for someone with the fear that they might snap and kill you or someone you care about? Or if he ends up hurting _himself_?

 _Let me out!_

After a long while of looping back through the worst case scenarios a few more times, he dejectedly stepped out of the shower feeling worse than he was before. When he did, he stared at the mirror to look at himself and saw someone had written a note on the foggy glass.

 _Shinganshina Senior Living Home, A.A._

Jean stared at it for a moment and then screamed, wiping the evidence away with a towel.

"J-Jean!?" a familiar voice asked, banging on the door. "Jean what's wrong? Where's Armin? I can't find him anywhere!"

The two-toned brunette opened the door and saw Marco standing there, a machete in hand.

"Okay, _that_ breaks parole," Jean commented.

"Now's not the time!" Marco shot back, "Jean what happened?"

Jean sighed and walked past him to his room. "Armin isn't here."

Marco dropped his weapon. "… _What?!_ "

"Relax…" Jean muttered, "He wrote a note on the mirror saying 'Shinganshina Senior Living Home, A.A.' so I think it's safe to assume he's there."

"But _why?_ " Marco asked.

"Easy," he replied, "he's going to see his grandfather."

"Grandpa?"

The old man's head snapped up from the book he was reading. He hadn't heard that voice in such a long time.

He spotted the blonde shyly hiding behind the door frame, just the way he did when he was little. From what he could see, he hadn't changed much—his hair was still neatly trimmed to his chin, he was lean though a bit taller than he recalled, and a heartbreaking amount of pain clouded his once bright, ocean-blue eyes.

"Grandson…" the old man replied, tears falling down his wrinkled cheeks as the book fell to the floor with a _thump_. "Don't…don't be shy…let me get a good look at you."

After a moment his grandson did as he was told, and truthfully he still saw the little boy that would cling to Amelia's skirts whenever he could—he was actually a little too lean, and he worried that his mental health problems had finally led to physical problems. He was always small, but he looked like he could be blown away by a slumbering baby's breath.

"Armin…" he said, "You've grown, but you don't seem to be eating much. Here, Mrs. Kirchstein from down the hall made some cookies and they're _really_ good—they're peanut butter, your favorite."

Armin blinked. "K…Kirchstein…? As in Jean Kirchstein?"

"That's right," the old man replied, "he works at the magazine company where that Eren interviewed at, Maria Monthly. His grandmother's here because she gave away her summer home to her daughter and son-in-law for their honeymoon, but now they've retired there. Old Mrs. Kirchstein says that she likes socializing with others at the home so that's why she gave it away, but I'd rather be a hermit with my books by the sea than be dragged down to bingo every Sunday…"

He realized he was rambling, and his grandson was starting to look thoroughly confused. "Oh, look at me going off on a tangent," he laughed, "But to tell me, do you _know_ Jean Kirchstein?"

After a pause, the boy looked down at the floor. "N…no."

The old man smiled. Armin may be a compulsive liar, but apparently he respects his grandfather enough to be obvious about it.

He noticed that his grandson was having trouble keeping himself together, unshed tears glistening in his eyes as his hands clenched with an unknown emotion. He probably was expecting him to turn him away, to blame him and turn him in. He'd _never_ do that to him, not after all the pain he's suffered all by himself—pain that was inflicted by the ones who were supposed to love and cherish him.

Pain that he caused.

"I don't blame you," he said quietly, "In fact, I'm sorry. There _had_ to be _some_ way for me to help you, to prevent you from suffering so much, all alone…"

The tears his beloved grandson had fought back so valiantly spilled over. "G…G-Grandpa…" he sobbed quietly, eyes filled with so much pain that was destroying him from the inside, pain that that he knows that only time and love can heal, though he knows that the wounds will scar his once pure, precious soul.

"Come here," the old man said, smiling sadly though his tears. Armin came and kneeled down before him, laying his head in his lap just as he did when he was younger.

His poor, broken grandson continued to cry, and the old man gently ran a hand through his soft, blonde hair. "I-I'm sorry…" he sobbed, "I'm so… _so_ sorry…I-I don't deserve you…"

The grandfather smiled sadly as he continued to pet his grandson. "No," he said quietly, " _I'm_ sorry. You don't deserve any of the pain you bear, and I don't hold anything against you. Murderer or not, you're my grandson and I would _never_ leave you—you could kill me yourself and I'd die with a smile on my face."

The two of them sat there as Armin cried in his lap, and he couldn't help but see the young child who was so innocent, so underprepared for the world's cruelty and harshness. It was as if since birth he was destined to feel pain—it's no surprise that he was who he was now.

After a long while he looked up, eyes red and puffy from crying. "Grandpa…"

The old man didn't stop ruffling his hair. "Hmm?"

His grandson gave him a watery smile. "Thank you."

"No," the old man said with an equally tear-stained smile, "Thank _you_."

"Tell me, _why_ are you going to the senior home?" Eren asked, " _I_ interviewed his grandson, so _I_ should interview him too!"

Mikasa sighed as she got ready to leave. "You had your turn," she said, "and I can handle _him_ if he appears."

"What are you going to do, kill him right in front of his grandpa!?" Eren demanded, "Mikasa—"

"If it's necessary then yes," Mikasa replied darkly, swinging her purse resolutely over her shoulder. "I will _not_ let him hurt you again."

"B-but—"

"I promised to protect you," Mikasa interrupted, "I've already failed once, I'm not letting it happen again."

"Mikasa you don't have to protect me!"

The raven haired girl sighed and hid her face in her scarf. _Yes I do_ , she thought, _and I_ will.

 _At any cost._

That mantra repeated in her head during the entire drive there, her gun burning in her purse. Armin had hurt her, but that hell was nothing compared to the thought of him even _thinking_ of touching Eren again. He will _not_ take any more loved ones from her or anyone else, but in order to insure that he needs feel what it's like to lose someone who's precious to him.

Mikasa's hands tightened on the steering wheel. She wants so badly to see the pain in his face when he realizes that he's weak, that he's a worthless waste of space that should be eliminated—the very earth itself would refuse to break down his rotten corpse, and the sea would boil at the sight of his ashes. Everything down to his core was corrupt and evil, and his very essence is a waste of life.

His grandfather won't get any mercy either—the apple never falls to far from the tree. Besides, granting him a quick and painless death would be reason for Armin to be at peace, a luxurious feeling that Mikasa refuses to let him feel.

The raven-haired girl glanced at the back seat where her katana laid, an heirloom she kept from her parents. It'll be messy, but she doesn't care if she gets caught or not, or if he wasn't even _there_ to witness his loved one's death.

Either way, she's going home with an Arlert's blood on her hands.

 **By the way, there's a user by the name of Sweetdew (** **u/6090142/** **) who has a ton of stories up for adoption if you need and idea for one. I already adopted two beautiful babies XD and there are some pretty interesting ideas there, so take a look :D**


	15. Monster

**Warning, very, _very_ dark chapter. It felt wrong to post this on Thanksgiving (I actually had a fic in mind, but I was busy preparing for Thanksgiving to work on it. I'll post it...eventually...**

"I'm not lending you another twenty!" Annie growled, "Go mug someone else!"

The robber from a few weeks ago sighed and left dejectedly, making Annie roll her eyes. He can't mug people for shit.

 _He still got twenty bucks from you before_ , a voice reminded her.

 _Shut the fuck up_ , she replied.

When she got back to the car to spend the rest of her lunch break reading light novels, she felt eyes on her back. She turned around and found someone peeking at her in a nearby alley. Deciding to _not_ be stupid, she just got in her her car and watched him slink into the shadows.

"Huh," she muttered to herself, "Why's some jock in a letterman jacket stalking me…?"

* * *

There was a knock at the door, tearing Mr. Arlert out of his train of thought. He had been peacefully reading to his grandson for the past half hour, completely losing himself in the memories it brought as the blonde boy looked sound asleep in his lap—though he knew him well enough that he was hanging on to his every word, just like he would when he was younger. He'd close his eyes and run wild with his imagination, a content smile on his face as the old man continued to read.

He won't let him be taken from him again.

"To the closet," he hissed, causing his grandson—who was probably too lost in thought to hear the knock—to bolt up to a sitting position. "Quickly!"

After a swift peck on the forehead, his grandson wasted no time doing as he was told. The door clicked quietly just as the other opened, revealing his nurse. "You…you have another reporter," she said hesitantly, putting him on edge.

"I thought I told you to turn them away," the old man growled, "No means no."

"Yes, but this one was a bit more aggressive—"

"Mr. Arlert."

The old man watched as an Asian woman somehow gracefully stormed into the room, a long package strapped to her back.

He recognized her immediately.

It was one of the women that his grandson had hurt—her face was all over the news. It hasn't happened yet, but he was wondering when someone was going to take out their anger at his grandson on him.

Better him than Armin.

"Leave us now, Mrs. Reiss," Mr. Arlert said coldly. "And under _no_ circumstances is _anyone_ allowed to enter—I don't care if the world's ending, unless it involves my grandson _directly_. Understood?"

The nurse nodded and left, leaving the woman to stare after her—she must have seen her when his grandson first broke out and she took refuge in their building.

"How long has she worked here?" the woman asked, still looking at the door.

"Right after the incident she quit and came here," Mr. Arlert replied, "she changed her name and everything—but leave her out of this. It's me you're going to kill with that blade, isn't it… _Mikasa Ackerman_?"

The woman didn't flinch, but something flickered in her eyes. "That depends," she replied coolly, "Where is your grandson? Tell me and I'll kill you quickly with a bullet instead."

The old man chuckled. "Go ahead and chop me to pieces. I'm not going to betray my grandson to you. I _refuse_."

Mikasa reached back and slowly unsheathed the katana. "You know what he's done," she said quietly, "He's killed _thousands_ , and he _tortured_ my brother."

"I'm aware," he said simply.

She replied by pointing the sword to his throat. "I'm giving you one last chance," she said, "Tell me where he is, and I might actually let you live."

"Kill me then," he replied, "I've lived long enough."

Her expressionless face morphed into rage. "You….you…"

"Let me guess," the old man said, leaning back into his recliner. "You were full of resolve, saying that you'd leave with either my blood or my grandson's blood on your hands, but then you decided to let me live if I told you—you expected me to beg for my life and immediately give up his location to save my own skin."

The blade in her hand began to shake.

"Let me pose you with a question," he continued, "If Eren started killing people and he killed…say, Jean's mother—and Jean came to you with a knife to your throat, would you yield?"

"Absolutely not," she growled, "Eren is the only family I have left. I'd _never_ hurt him like that."

"So you _do_ understand," he finished, "You see, my grandson is my only living relative. He's the only family _I_ have left, so I'd never put him through any more pain. You can torture me all you like, but you're not going to get it out of me."

Mr. Arlert felt at peace when he said that. He read to his grandson and solidified his love for him with the trial presented before him—live at the expense of his loved one, or die for him? Yes, Amber was still alive, but he wasn't going to allow _this_ nutcase anywhere near her—hell, he'd rather have his _grandson_ by her than this madwoman. As far as anyone—including his grandson—is concerned, she's as dead as a doornail.

Now he was at peace.

Mikasa, however, looked like steam was about to come out of her ears. "Y-you…you son of a _bitch_!" she screamed, swinging the katana at his throat.

Suddenly the sword clattered to the ground, and the old man opened the eyes he couldn't remember closing.

His heart sank.

"I'm sorry Grandpa…" his grandson whispered. He must have dove and tried to tackle her, but Mikasa was too fast—but he succeeded in startling her judging by the sword on the ground.

"So you _were_ here then," Mikasa said, smirking as she snatched it back up faster than either men could react. "This makes things easier."

She swung at him, but he dodged—however she came back immediately too fast for his grandson to move.

The old man then felt pain blossoming in his stomach and realized that he had launched out of his chair, intercepting the blade with his body.

The world became silent.

Then he felt the blade twist, causing him to fall to the ground with a cry of pain.

"Look at you," Mikasa seethed, "So pathetic…"

The blade then cut downward, into his gut. "However, I admire your love for your grandson," she said, "So I'll cut you the same way a samurai commits _seppuku_ , so you can die honorably—"

She never got to finish, because his grandson had launched himself at her again, this time successfully tackling her to the ground. However, she immediately produced a gun from her jacket and pointed it directly to his head.

" _Shinĕ_ ," she whispered.

His grandson moved his head out of the path of the bullet as it fired and slammed his fist onto his face, causing the gun to clatter out of her grip. Before she could recover he punched her throat, rendering her unable to breathe.

He then stood with that terrifying look in his eyes he saw that day he broke—eyes full of tears and madness, and a grin that made his blood run cold. It was evident on the woman's face when her eyes widened in horror that she had seen this side of him before.

"I…I tried to let you live," he said quietly, "I-I left Eren alone…I tried to stop…"

Giggles suddenly bubbled up and spilled out as he clutched his hair. "Y-you're no better than me now!" he laughed, his voice gaining volume. "Y-you wanted to kill him—kill _me_ —because you thought you could! You wanted to show Eren that you could protect him, didn't you!?"

"A-Armin…" the old man whispered, "p…please…"

He wasn't sure what he was asking for, but his grandson's giggling stopped abruptly as he meandered towards him. "Grandpa…"

Mikasa went to grope for her gun, but stopped when Armin cradled his grandfather in his arms.

"I knew this was going to happen eventually…" Mr. Arlert said, coughing up blood. "But it's okay…I…I still love you."

His grandson's expression was blank, but his eyes sparkled with unshed tears. "I…I love you too grandpa…"

A beautiful and strikingly familiar blonde woman stood behind his grandson, and he felt more tears fall down his cheeks. "A…Amelia…?"

"I'm sorry dad," she said, kneeling down beside him, "but you've done what you could…"

"I-I failed—" He tried.

" _No_ ," she replied, "None of it's your fault. Now come on, we have a picnic set up! Armin will join us one day, I promise!"

He looked passed her and saw his son-in-law in a grassy field, laying down a blanket and a picnic basket. "Come join us," he said, smiling knowingly.

A tear fell down his cheek as he followed his daughter into paradise with a smile.

* * *

Mikasa froze when he gathered his deceased grandfather in his arms.

"I…I love you too grandpa…" he whispered. "I'm so sorry…"

She knew he was dead when Armin ran a hand over his eyelids, closing them. His grandfather had a small smile on his face, and for a split second she wondered if she made a mistake.

Shaking the ridiculous thought from her head she held her breath, hand hovering over the gun.

"Are you happy now?"

The question caught her off guard. Still unable to speak, she gave him a confused look.

"You gave my grandfather a painful death," he said, his voice and eyes devoid of all life. "And he died right in my arms. Isn't that what you wanted?"

Mikasa didn't know how to respond. It _was_ , but for some reason it felt… _wrong_. Like _she_ was the one who was the monster—she had just killed an old man who wanted nothing more than to be with his grandson once again.

She felt tears prick in her eyes. _No_ , she growled to herself, _he doesn't_ deserve _my pity._

"You know," he continued, "My parents both died in my arms. I was on a car ride with my parents and someone crashed right into us—police said that it was murder because the driver dived out at the last second and fled the scene."

The first few tears escaped her eyes. _N-no,_ she thought, _I-I can't feel anything for him—I_ won't _._

The blonde clutched his grandfather closer, blood coating his clothing. "My mom hat taken off her seatbelt to get something from the backseat and flew through the windshield. I stubbornly held on to her, screaming for help even though she was clearly dying."

More followed, causing her to fill with rage as well as despair. _I…I can't feel anything. I_ won't.

"She…she told me she loved me, and to take care of my dad, but he was just as bad off. When he was carted to the hospital, I wouldn't let go of his hand—and he almost lived, too…but when he woke up from his coma he just… _died_."

Tears now fell freely from her eyes. _Stop it_ , she tried to scream, though her voice was useless.

"He had kneeled down and hugged me, but then he…he just stopped moving. It was just like with my mother—I screamed for help, but it was too late."

She began to sob. _Please stop_ …

"Now my grandfather is dead in my arms, and it's my fault," he whispered, "If I never existed, my parents wouldn't have gotten in that accident—I was begging them to take me to the beach, but we lived nowhere near one…"

"…I…I…" her voice was slowly coming back.

"If I never existed…" a lone tear fell from his empty eyes and down his cheek. "If I never existed I wouldn't have hurt your brother…and you wouldn't have had to kill my grandfather…"

"I'm…I'm sorry…" she whispered. _Why are you making me feel like this? How?!_

"I deserved it," he replied, starring into nothing. "I…I shouldn't exist…"

He then turned his gaze on her, making her jump. "Kill me," he stated, "get revenge on your brother—unless you want me to suffer on my own, I could understand that."

His eyes were on her, but it was clear that he wasn't looking at her.

"I…I refuse…" She murmured, looking away from the blonde's lifeless gaze. _He should live with what he's done,_ she thought, though it was a lie _—_ she just couldn't bring herself to do it. She had enough blood on her hands—she was too scared to get any more on her.

 _Fight!_

Her jaw clenched as she picked up the gun and pointed it at his head.

"Kill me," the blonde repeated, "Let's see who the real monster is."

He then laid down his grandfather gently on the ground, making Mikasa scramble back in fear.

In her haste to get away from him, she abandoned her gun. When she noticed, she made an attempt to grab it that was foiled by Armin slamming his foot on top of the gun—and consequently, her hand.

"Why are you afraid?" he asked, voice innocent but eyes as lifeless as a doll's. "Monsters aren't afraid or anything, right?"

The blonde twisted his foot, causing Mikasa to cry out in pain. "I-I'm sorry—!" She gasped, pain flaring up her arm as her fingers were crushed. "P-p-please—!"

"But Mikasa…" he murmured, "The more you beg me to stop…"

Her eyes widened. _No,_ she thought, her eyes widening in fear as he produced a simple box cutter from her pocket. A grin slowly spread across his face, his eyes showing no signs of life whatsoever—no madness, no anger or even joy…just _nothing_.

He twisted his foot again, bones breaking painfully against the gun as he said those five words Mikasa hoped to never hear again.

"…the more I'll torment you."

 **IREGRETNOTHING**


	16. Ghosts

_Scream for me._

Mikasa screamed as loudly as she possibly could, running her hands through her hair. The pain came rushing back, her back arching as phantom hands tore at her skin.

He was gone, long gone, and he didn't even do anything to her—with the exception of her hand of course. He just gave her that dead stare and that grin that sent shivers down her spine—she was afraid, so afraid that he was going to hurt her again and again and again.

No, he already _has_.

At least, that's what she thought as another scream tore through her throat. She was dimly aware that she was crying, and that someone should have come in by now by all of the commotion that she's caused the moment she first walked inside the room—however her back was searing in pain as the blonde giggled psychotically in the back of her mind, making those thoughts fleeting and unimportant.

Eventually her imagination turned against her, showing her all of the ways that Armin could hurt her—she felt her limbs being sawed off, her eyes gouged, the list went on—and with each thought her nerves reacted as if it was truly happening. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything as the boy had his way with her, the thoughts getting worse and worse until she couldn't take it anymore, but her body refused to move her limbs to to gun lying on the floor, forcing her to suffer—

 _Miss…?_

She ignored whoever was talking as she scraped her nails against her scalp, the giggles and her screaming reverberating through her eardrums. She tried to drown out the giggles, but they just got louder and louder and louder, making her scream louder and louder and—

 _Miss—_

She continued to scream and scream and scream her throat raw as the blonde tore her apart, piece by piece, physically and mentally—

 _Miss! Snap out of it!_

She was in hell.

"It's no use," Marlo sighed, "she's snapped."

"Thanks for the news, Captain obvious," Hitch drawled, taking in the scene. "Man, what the hell even _happened_ here!?"

"That's what we're here to find out," the brunette replied solemnly, taking the Asian woman in his arms. "Go get the car ready and let Commissioner Dawk that we need to go—this girl's obviously a witness and when she snaps out of…when she snaps out of it she'll need to testify."

The blonde girl sighed overdramatically. "Why do I have to do all of the _boring_ work?" she demanded, "while you get to snuggle with a damsel in distress?"

Marlo's face turned red. "J-just go to the Commissioner," he muttered.

"Fine," she huffed, "but I don't want any funny business with the witness—"

" _Out_."

After a pout, she stuck her tongue out at him. "Fine then, Mr. Bossy Pants."

When she left, the brunette sighed again. "I'm not bossy…" he murmured under his breath as he followed Hitch out of the crime scene.

However, his movement finally elicited decipherable phrases from the poor woman.

"I'm sorry," she wept, "I'm so, _so_ sorry…"

"What do you _mean_ it _wasn't_ Arlert!?" Commissioner Dawk demanded, slamming his fist on his desk.

"Ooh, you're in trouble now!" Hitch snickered.

"Shut _up_ Dreyse!" the Commissioner barked, "Freudenberg, you've got exactly three seconds to tell me how that psychopath _isn't_ responsible for this!"

Marlo swallowed thickly, eyes wide as he stiffened. "The woman I found at the crime scene kept saying 'I'm sorry' and that she 'stained her family's blade'," he replied, "Seeing as Mr. Arlert was impaled with a samurai sword, it makes sense."

"Is that _racism_ I hear Marlo?" Hitched leered, raising her eyebrows and narrowing her eyes.

"O-of _course_ not!" Marlo replied, "T-The nurse said that she came in with a long package slung over her shoulder the same size as the murder weapon—also, by her muttering it seems like she stained it with Mr. Arlert's blood. They found fingerprints on the handle, and I'm positive that they'll point it to her."

The commissioner thought for a moment. "Well we're going to say that it was Arlert who did it."

The taller of the two blinked in confusion. "P-pardon?" Marlo stammered.

"Oh, I see!" Hitch exclaimed suddenly, "You don't want people to justify the murder, huh? You'll just make Arlert's image _worse_ and denounce violent acts of revenge!"

"Exactly," Commissioner Dawk agreed, giving Marlo a glare. "Why can't you be more like Hitch? She actually takes her job _seriously_."

Marlo sighed yet again. "I'll try harder, sir."

"E-Eren," Jean said shakily, "Now's _not_ the time to lose your shit…"

Eren ignored him, yelling as he punched the wall. It was solid wall, so it only damaged his hand.

"S-shit!" he cursed, "Mikasa…"

He glared back at the TV, cradling his injured hand to his chest. He _knew_ her going to that old folk's home would be a bad idea, but she refused to listen and was attacked by that fucking toddler Arlert _again_.

"Why!?" he screamed at the screen, "Right as I was beginning to trust you!?"

"Eren," Marco said calmly, "I…I don't think Armin did this."

Eren turned on the brunette, furious. "Well the _police commissioner—_ "

"—is full of shit," Annie interjected as she curled up in a ball on the couch, cuddling with a stuffed orca. "He lies about the simplest stuff and takes bribes and handouts. Who's to say that he's just being his usual dick self?"

"Then who killed Armin's grandfather!?" Eren demanded, "And _why_?"

"A relative or someone close to one of his victims, perhaps?" Marco tried, "For revenge?"

The brunette thought for a moment. That made a surprising amount of sense. Hell, about a month or so ago he had contemplated doing the same exact thing—however killing an lonely old man in his home didn't sound right to him even in his rage. He had wanted the do physical harm to the killer himself, but look how well _that_ turned out.

"But why hide it?" Annie asked, "They could easily make them a hero or something."

Marco shook his head, staring at the screen apprehensively. "I don't think so," he replied, "They probably don't want to justify the murder…but then again, what's to stop the person from boasting?"

"Or," Jean put in, "they _could_ have been trying to lure Armin into the open with his granddad's death. I'm sure your only living relative dying is enough to make you flip your shit."

"But Armin was there," Marco reminded him, "so…"

"…he had to have seen what happened," Jean finished.

Wait… _what_?

"How did you know he was going to be there?" Eren asked, his voice gaining a dangerous edge.

"He wrote a note on the bathroom mirror," Jean explained, "we figured he was going to visit his grandfather, but…"

"He told me that his entire family was dead," Annie put bluntly.

"They are now."

Annie flew up from the couch, Marco pulled a machete from under said couch (what the fuck?) and Jean merely squawked awkwardly.

The blonde girl dropped the orca. "…Armin?"

Saying that he looked "bad" would have been the understatement of the century. He was dressed nicely in a button up and black jeans with converse—like he used to—but his body language reeked of death. His mouth was slightly open like a gasp, his arms dangled limply at his sides as he slouched instead of standing tall like usual, and his eyes were wiped clean of any life whatsoever. They were like a doll's as he looked around the people in the room, though his eyes never truly landed on anyone. He was simply staring off into space, his eyes clouded over to the point where they were more grey than blue.

"I…It was my fault…" he murmured, taking a few steps before collapsing on his knees, causing everyone to panic. "I…I got him killed…"

He began to laugh humorlessly, his hands wandering to his arms. "I…I shouldn't exist…"

Before he could hurt himself, Marco kneeled in front of him. "Armin," he said gently, "its okay. We're here for you."

He widened his arms to bring him into a hug, but the blonde refused, looking away. "You're all going to die by my hand one day."

The room grew silent.

"It…it always happens," he murmured, "everyone who I care for or cares for me ends up dying and it's my fault."

Marco sighed. "Armin, it's not your—"

" _Don't._ "

The freckled brunette gasped and fell back onto his rear at the sudden venom in the blonde's voice.

"Don't you _dare_ tell me it's not my fault," he growled, his eyes wide and covered by the shadow of his bangs, making him look like a feral animal. "Every single person I've come across has died because of me. If I didn't kill them with my own two hands then I was the person who enabled it to happen."

He then dropped his gaze, his eyes staring into nothing. "B-but…my grandpa…he still cared…he survived me all these years, not complaining once…and he's gone…"

"Armin _no_ —!" Marco cried as the blonde slowly raked his nails against his arms, drawing blood in the process. "Please don't—!"

"Why?" the blonde asked innocently, though with his lifeless eyes it sent shivers up the green-eyed brunette's spine. "I deserve to die. I'm worthless. If I like killing so much, I should just kill myself, right?"

"A-Armin—!" Annie tried.

However, her voice died in her throat as the boy's mouth turned into a content smile. "I'm just going to suffer in hell anyway. Why should I bother staying here?"

"Armin…" Eren murmured, "We care about you—"

He stopped short when the blonde looked past him, still scraping his arms slowly across his arms. "You're going to die."

"No I'm _not_ ," he replied, "I'm too stubborn to die. I'm also too stubborn to not care about you."

"Stop…" the blonde muttered, "You're…you're digging your own grave…"

"I don't care!" the green eyed brunette exploded, "The reason you're like this is because you keep pushing people away!"

"Eren—" Marco warned.

"No!" Eren shouted, turning on the freckled brunette. "He keeps whining about how he's all alone and nobody cares about him, but when we care about him he pushes us away!"

"Eren you shouldn't—" Jean tried.

"For goodness sake I was there for you when you were bleeding out and slamming your damn head against the concrete!" he interrupted, turning back to the blonde. "I was there for you that day in the bookstore when you were falling apart and loosing yourself! Why won't you let any of us in!?"

Armin regarded him with cold, lifeless eyes. "Because you'll die," he replied emotionlessly, "I have a bad habit of killing people I care about to keep them from leaving me. If they're dead then I can't hurt them, and they can't hurt me."

The blonde's lips then tugged into a smile as Eren's eyes widened in fear.

"Ghosts make the most wonderful companions, don't you think?"

 **THIS IS NOT TURNING INTO A SUPERNATURAL FIC I SWEAR (unless you want that…if so review or pm me XD)**

 **Well, you should review anyway.**

 **JUST**

 **DO IT**


	17. Die

"Why hello there," Dr. Smith said kindly, "Fancy meeting _you_ here."

The Asian woman looked away, her face lacking any and all emotion.

"To be honest," the doctor continued, "You were one of the _last_ people I expected to join our little family—you seemed the most mentally sound one out of the whole lot."

The woman still didn't respond.

"It's alright, though," Dr. Smith said, ignoring her lack of response. "Few people who faced _him_ have made it back alive, and all who did ended up becoming a patient—whether they did it themselves or were thrown in here. You're part of the former, huh?"

Silence, then a small nod.

"Let me guess," the man said, "You want to be there for Eren, but you can't do that if you're out of your mind, right?"

Another pause, another nod.

Dr. Smith smiled. "I'm sure that telling you that he's been helping a few people hide _him_ wouldn't help at all—"

Suddenly the girl lunged at him, only to collide with the clear wall that separated the two of them.

"I'm telling the truth," he said, "I have a… _friend_ who knows _him_ well, and he's been on his tail for over a _week_ now—and most of the time he'd see Eren with…what's her name…ah, _Annie Leonhart_ , your coworker, correct?"

The only response was a growl.

"I mean, look at it this way," Dr. Smith continued, "he's been driving her home for a few weeks now, right? They're _bound_ to be doing _something_ , if you know what I mean."

A stray tear left the girl's face.

"Now now," Dr. Smith cooed, "We can fix all of this if you can do me a favor."

The girl sniffed and looked up at him, eyes questioning.

"I'll let you go free," he said, "You can have Eren back, _and_ you'll put _him_ in his rightful place, okay?"

A pause, then a nod.

Dr. Smith grinned. "Brilliant…"

The blonde slowly opened his eyes, blinking the sleep away.

It took him a moment, but everything crashed down on him eventually—his grandfather's death, his breaking down (yet again) in front of people who insist on being called friends, his living with said people, the incessant knocking on the front door—

Wait.

Armin shot out of the bed and hid underneath it. Everyone was at work except Jean, who had to go grocery shopping before coming home. It could have been Eren and Annie, but it could also _not_ be them, and then he'd get caught and shipped back to—

 _No,_ he thought sternly, _I'm not going down_ that _route again_.

Over the loud knocking he heard the back door slip open, and he knew something was very, _very_ wrong.

"Armin…" a familiar voice said, "I know you're here…"

 _Shit._ The blonde sighed and stood, straightening himself up. He was still in yesterday's bloodstained clothes, so all he had to do was slip on his shoes just in case he had to vanish.

"Hi!" the blonde said enthusiastically, peeking his head out.

He immediately drew it back when a bullet trimmed his hair.

"You're fighting dirty," he whined, "I'm not even _armed_ …"

There was a _clack_ , but Armin knew better when he heard a soft rustling sound accompanying it. The knocking had stopped, and the blonde decided to just assume that the other person was someone _else_ that wanted him dead.

He peeked his head out again and sighed in relief.

"Hello," Mikasa said, pointing her blade at him. "It's been awhile, hasn't it?"

"Only two days," was his reply, revealing himself and leaning against the doorframe. There could still be someone else in the room ready to shoot him, but there were only two angles he would have to shoot at, one hiding place, and said hiding place was right in his field of vision.

However he didn't miss the shadow that briefly appeared in the mirror on the wall opposite of him.

"You've brought a friend," Armin commented, "Now you really _are_ fighting dirty."

"Shut up," Mikasa growled, "I'm going to finish what I've started—your blood _will_ be on my hands!"

"We'll see," he said, revealing himself just a mere inch more.

The shadow shifted again, enabling Armin to duck and dive straight at Mikasa, who looked shocked and confused as the bullet missed and hit the wall.

He stood before her, grinning. "You weren't expecting that, were you?"

Mikasa screamed and swung her katana, and he giggled as he ducked and rose back with an uppercut, nailing her in the jaw. Before she could get her bearings he swept her feet, taking her to the ground.

"Now," Armin said to the shadow on the other side of the room, "I know you're there—show yourself."

There was a familiar laugh as someone he hoped to never see again stood from their hiding spot.

"Pretty observant, _runt_ ," DD said with a smirk.

Mikasa cursed under her breath. That idiot was supposed to stay hidden unless he was physically found by the blonde—he just _had_ to prove a point…

"Daniel," she said sharply, "You had one—"

Her voice died in her throat when the blonde suddenly lunged at him with a savage scream. She expected a violent reaction to his presence, but his screaming rendered her speechless.

"You—you— _really_ are hell bent on pissing me off, aren't you!?" The blonde giggled uncontrollably, "W-w-w won't you just stay _dead_!?"

"Y-you can't get rid of me that easily!" DD shouted, trying and failing to fight back.

Armin swept DD's legs from under him, causing his head to hit the table. Mikasa gaped in horror as the blonde grabbed DD's face and bashed it into the table over and over again. "I tore you _apart_!" he screamed, bashing it again. "I cut you to pieces! Just—fucking—stay— _DEAD_ —!"

He continued to hit him when there was a loud _crack_ , causing him only laugh louder. "You see!?" he giggled, "If—if you just stay dead, I wouldn't have to do this, now will I!?"

The blonde continued to laugh, his face contorting to the one she saw that night after he tortured her—tears stained his pale face as his cheeks were stretched to their fullest extent to produce the most terrifying smile she's ever seen. Blood had splattered from DD's shirt and onto him, not to mention the other bloodstains from when she made one of the biggest mistakes of her life.

She figured that being here was among those as well.

Mikasa knew she was right when he turned on her, blue eyes wide and dull as his smile faded, confusing her more.

"…you did this to me," he whispered, "I…I tried to get better…I wanted to stop…"

A flare of anger suddenly coursed through her. "H-how _dare_ you blame me!" she shouted, pointing her blade at him. "You brought this on yourself! You—"

"You killed my grandfather."

Her throat suddenly went dry.

"You made me kill again." He slowly advanced towards her, face devoid of any and all emotion.

She tried to scream for help, but her voice didn't work.

"I tried to go easy on you," he said, looking down at her—when did she fall to the floor?—and cocked his head to the side. "But you've done too much. You don't know true pain."

"P-please…" she whispered as tears fell down her cheeks, "don't hurt me…"

"We went over this before," he replied, "But I don't feel like repeating myself."

A swift kick to the face sent her tumbling to the floor. Her vision blurred, but he felt herself be flipped on her stomach.

"N- _no_ —" she cried, struggling with all her might.

Suddenly he grabbed her arm and cranked it in the opposite direction, causing the bone to crack agonizingly and make her scream.

"Be as loud as you want," he whispered in her ear, "because it'll only get worse from here."

He did the same to the other side, causing her to scream again. Her struggling grew weaker due to her injuries while the blonde remained uncharacteristically quiet.

" _Kurushimimasu_ ," he whispered, " _suffer_."

The back of her shirt was torn open and something pierced her flesh, causing her to scream even more— _not again,_ _no, no, please…_

Suddenly the blade was abandoned as nails mercilessly raked against her tender, raw skin, which was even worse in her opinion. He probably knew this, but was not laughing like he had before.

Somehow, it was even _more_ frightening that way.

Suddenly she was flipped over as bloodied hands clutched her throat.

"I want to watch you die…" he said quietly, "I want to watch the light leave your eyes…the way I watched my grandfather's…"

The blonde then released one hand as he took the box cutter in the other and plunged it into her stomach.

" _Shinĕ_ ," he whispered, " _die._ "

 _Fight!_

She refused to be killed—not here, not now, and most certainly not by _him_. However her kicking was useless because he straddled her thighs, rendering her immobile.

 _Fight!_

Still refusing to give up, she stared him right in the eye. He stared right back, though his eyes looked so unfocused that it looked like he was looking _past_ her.

" _Shinĕ…_ " he repeated, taking the blade and twisting it.

" _T…t…tatakai…_ " she struggled, glaring at him.

He seemed unfazed as he returned his hands to her throat and squeezed harder. " _Shinĕ._ "

" _T-t….tatakai…_ " she said again, " _tata…kai…_ "

Suddenly he raised a fist and punched her throat, rendering her unable to talk—it was a miracle she was able to beforehand.

Nails then cut into her flesh, making her gasp in pain.

" _Shinĕ._ "

 _Tatakai…_

He slowly scraped his nails down her throat, and she tried to scream.

 _Shinĕ._

Her resolve was slowly crumbling. Armin must have noticed this because a ghost of a smile graced his face, which was now inches from hers.

 _Shinĕ._

The girl's vision became fuzzy, and she closed her eyes only to have him force them back open with another scrape of his nails.

 _Shinĕ._

Black spots invaded her vision, but she didn't close her now tear-filled eyes.

Suddenly the front door opened, and a beautifully familiar voice called to her.

"M…Mikasa…?"

"Your knight in shining armor came after all…" Armin mused, releasing her throat. "You're stronger than I thought…"

Her eyes rolled back into her head, but not before locking with the ever familiar bright green orbs of her beloved brother.


	18. Red

**This idea came to me during class and I wanted to get it down before I forgot-so sorry if it seems rushed :/ Anyway, EXTRA FAST UPDATE FOR YOU :3**

All Eren could see was red.

He was dimly aware that he was screaming, but he didn't care. His hands were wrapped around something and he squeezed as hard as he could, throwing punch after punch. The metallic smell of blood flooded his nostrils, so thick that he was able to taste it in his screeching mouth.

All Eren wanted was red.

The brunette opened his eyes and found himself sitting upright on the back of an ambulance, a police officer with an interesting bowl cut standing over him.

"Sir?" the man asked, "Are you alright?"

"I…" Eren blinked a few times to clear his fuzzy head. "…what happened?"

The officer sighed. "You don't remember anything?" he asked, "You're our key witness…"

He thought for a moment. "…I saw red."

"…what?" the officer asked, "Care to elaborate?"

"I…um…" the brunette looked down, trying to recollect what had happened. "…I…I was hitting something—no, some _one_ …and I think I was choking them…"

"That would most likely be Armin Arlert," the officer replied, taking out a notebook and writing something down. "Anything else?"

 _Armin Arlert._

Everything came rushing back to him—he found _him_ trying to kill his sister again and he must have lost it. But why _wouldn't_ he? After _everything_ he did for him _this_ is how he repays him!?

"I came to the house," Eren growled, "and he was strangling my sister. I reacted by trying to kill him to save her."

The officer nodded. "That's what I thought," he said, "now what made you come to this house?"

"I…I was meeting up with a coworker," he lied, "His roommate actually—we were going to hang out a bit."

"And this roommate is?"

"Marco Bodt," Eren replied, unease gripping at his chest and pain clutching his head. "C…can I answer these later? My head really hurts…"

"That's because you have a concussion," a female paramedic said, walking up from the front of the ambulance. "You should rest—but don't sleep. And _you—_ " she turned on the officer. "—should know better than to try to interrogate someone with a head injury."

"We need answers as soon as possible—"

"Nonsense," the woman cut off, "Now go—I need to tend to him."

After a few mumbles the officer left, leaving Eren with the paramedic.

"T-thanks," he said, rubbing his head.

"No problem," she said, sitting down next to him and handing him a bag of ice. "Put that on the back of your head."

After doing as he was told, a silence fell between them. It wasn't necessarily awkward, but he felt that it should still be filled.

The paramedic seemed to feel the same way. "Have you heard of the 'Survey Corps Mental Hospital'?"

The brunette blinked. "Y-yeah," he replied, "Why'd…Why'd they name it that again?"

"Something about the whole Titan myth," she replied, "There was a branch of the military called the 'Survey Corps' who would go into Titan territory and…well 'survey' them and try to find out things about them. They named the hospital after them because it's also a research facility to cure mental diseases—at least, that's what I've been told…"

"I…I think you were right," he said, nodding a bit. "I…I think I did an article about that…"

"You did," the woman affirmed, "That's the mental hospital—well, people call it an insane asylum—that Armin was shipped to."

Red flickered at the edge of Eren's vision at the sound of _his_ name.

Seeing the reaction, the woman put a hand on his shoulder. "Calm down," she cooed, "No good will come out of you hitting your head a second time."

"S-sorry…" he apologized, looking to the ground.

"Anyway," the paramedic continued, "I've always wondered what made him who he is—I've actually been studying to be a caretaker at the Survey Corps Mental Hospital to try to get to know him better."

The brunette's head snapped up and turned to her, which resulted in a fiery flare of pain. "Why—ooh…"

"Easy does it," she said, taking the ice away. When she inspected his bandages—he's wearing bandages?—she winced. "I need to change these," she murmured as she went to unwrapping the now crimson gauze. "Like I was saying, he…I guess he _interests_ me. I feel like there's a lot more to him than what meets the eye."

 _Don't put me in time out!_

"…I think so too," he said after a while, "I mean, I tried to kill him because he was trying to kill my sister but…"

Eren growled as a flood of emotion ravaged his mind and heart. How the hell did he feel about that kid—or _man_ —who hurt his sister _twice_? He hated him, he really did, but he couldn't help but wonder why he was the way he was—just like the paramedic said.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

After a long moment Eren finally comprehended the question. "Sure," he said, "I won't tell anyone."

The girl bit his lip. "…I met Armin once when I was little."

The brunette tried to turn to her again, but she suddenly tightened the bandage. "Ow…"

"Sorry," she apologized, "But yes, I was really little—only in about seventh or eighth grade. There was someone bullying my older brother, and I remember hearing rumors about someone who was willing to kill anyone for a price."

"…you…were only in middle school…?" Eren asked, starting to feel woozy again.

"Yep," she replied, "I found him by pure luck and paid him to kill the bully—the first few times he just scared him though, like he didn't _want_ to kill him. But after I got mad and asked if he couldn't do it, the next morning the kid was torn to pieces."

To Eren's dismay, the paramedic smiled. "I actually bought him some Reese's peanut butter cups as a show of gratitude for that—but I couldn't help but wonder why he was so hesitant to kill him…"

 _He likes Reese's_.

The memory finally came to him—Annie had actually told him this story before one day when he was driving her to Jean and Marco's house. It had been amusing at the time, but it was actually weird that he was actually being patched up by the same girl who asked someone to be killed—quite brutally by the sound of it.

"I…I see your point," he said, nodding and then wincing.

"There we go," she said, putting the leftover gauze away. "It looks like we'll be heading out soon. Do you need help standing?"

Eren shook his head and stood—only to have black and red fade into his vision.

When they faded, he realized he was caught by the paramedic. "T-thanks…"

"No problem," she replied, "I'm Ellie by the way, in case you were curious."

Eren nodded slowly this time to avoid the pain. "Eren…Eren Yeager…"

Ellie smiled and helped him into the vehicle while Eren tried once again to sort out his thoughts.

"Where is he!?" Jean whispered harshly to Marco as they drove back to the house, "Is he okay!?"

"Eren just got carted away to the hospital," the freckled brunette replied, reading the news on his phone as Jean drove like a madman. "Armin…he…"

Jean feared for the worst. "Was he…?"

"He's being carted to the hospital too," Marco finished, "and once he heals he's going straight to the insane asylum he was at before—and this time it's straight to a padded room."

 _It's soft and fluffy…_

 _…_ _like a padded room._

"Oh no," Jean muttered, "He's…he'll…"

"I know," Marco finished, looking down. "There's nothing that we can do about it—he's just going to rot down there."

"B-but that guy's a fucking _escape artist_!" Jean exploded, "He'll—he'll find a way, won't he!?"

Marco shook his head. "I remember Eren said that when he was in the bookstore with Armin he claimed that it was 'the one place he can't escape no matter how hard he tried'. He's been in one before and it didn't have a good effect on him."

Jean's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "This isn't fair," he growled.

"Is it?"

The two-toned brunette glared at the freckled brunette. "What the _hell_ do you mean by that!?" he demanded.

"I'm just saying," Marco said, "He may have been kind to _us_ , but look what happened to Mikasa—it was most likely self defense, but we can't sway the other _thousands_ of people who lost loved ones because of him. We may forgive him, but most everyone else is probably feeling the way Mikasa feels—they're demanding blood. It'll be a miracle if he survives the trips to the hospital, court, and mental hospital—if people figure out which car he's in they'll kill him in a heartbeat."

His grip on the steering wheel loosened with a defeated sigh. Marco was right. The two of them may care about him, but you can't sway the masses to feel sympathetic for him—not even with whatever horrible back story he'd been cursed with.

"It's still not fair, Jean decided.

Marco glanced up at him. "I know," he replied, "but when people are angry, all they see is red."

 **I also wanted to reply to dimentio123's review (You're a guest so I can't PM you :( you should get an account so I could :D)**

 **:This chapter shows justice! It's all, by all I mean Armin killing again and his grandfather's death, Mikasa's fault. I never hated Mikasa and this is a fanfic that drove me to speculate whether Mikasa could do something as reckless and stupid as that. The fanfic's great especially the amount of description you've put in the fanfic. I'll see to it that I'll look forward for more Sparkles. Get it? See? Look? Sparkles?**

 **Lol I'm actually surprised I got you and many others against Mikasa. She was never my favorite character to begin with because everyone paints her to be absolutely perfect, but even though she has a (rather unhealthy in my opinion) obsession with Eren, the episode he dies has little effect on her-she just rages on a bunch of titans and that's it. In my opinion I thought that with the level of obsession she shows for him that isn't realistic-so as a result I made her obsession into a fatal flaw of hers (maybe I'm totally wrong in my thinking, so feel free to flame me if you think so :P)**


	19. Mine (UPDATED)

**So I was reading my own story for the hell of it and I realized that I POSTED THE WRONG VERSION OF THE STORY XD so that's why there are so many errors...**

 **So here's the ACTUAL chapter XD...**

"Eren!"

Mikasa sat up from the bed, her injuries crying out in protest. The pain was nonexistent to her—Eren was safe. "Y-you're okay! You saved…me…"

She trailed off as she studied her brother. He had a bandage wrapped around his head, and he looked absolutely livid—his green eyes burned with hatred, and his hands were balled up into shaking fists.

 _I should have known he'd act like this_ , she thought, _but he can't let his hate for Armin get him hurt…_

"Eren…" she said, "I know what you're thinking—"

"No, you really _don't_ ," her beloved brother cut off, green eyes burning into hers. "How could you do something so _stupid_!?"

The Asian woman sighed. "Eren, I'm fine," she said, "There's no need to—"

"You killed Armin's grandfather, didn't you?"

Mikasa's blood ran cold.

"W…What?" she asked innocently, "What makes you think that I—"

"It's in the fucking police report," he seethed, "I'm a _reporter_ for fucks sake—I know how to get a hold of those kinds of things. How long were you planning on hiding the fact that you _murdered_ someone!?"

The woman began to panic—Eren was actually mad at _her_? "E-Eren…" she whispered, "You know I love you—"

"You killed an innocent old man!" Eren spat back, "He hadn't done _anything_ —"

"He brought that _foul creature_ into this world!" she cried, "He—he had the nerve to call that—that _monster_ his grandson! He _deserved_ to—!"

The next thing she knew she was holding her stinging cheek.

"You don't understand," her beloved brother said darkly, " _you're_ the monster. Yes, Armin had hurt us and yes, he's killed a great many people—but have you ever stopped and wondered what made him that way?"

"D-does it matter!?" she asked frantically, "He-he hurt _my_ Eren—!"

The brunette man clenched his jaw. "I'm not _your_ Eren."

There was an excruciating pause as Mikasa attempted to comprehend that statement.

"…what?"

The heavy silence between the two of them continued on, broken only by her beloved brother sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I. Am. Not. _Your. Eren._ " Eren growled, "That is something you need to get through your damn head. How _dare_ you do something so—so _horrifying_ in _my_ name!?"

"B-because I love you…" she replied, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "He…he hurt _my_ Eren…"

Her beloved brother looked down at her with disgust. "You deserved to be tortured by him."

The entire earth ceased moving.

"Y…you…you don't mean that…" she whispered, "P…please… _please_ don't mean that…"

All she got in return was a sigh as he turned and left.

"E…Eren…!" she cried, "E-E-Eren! D-don't leave! _Eren! **EREN!**_ "

But he was already gone.

* * *

"Still asleep?" a frighteningly familiar voice asked.

Mikasa's eyes snapped open at the sound. She must have either cried herself to sleep or been subdued by a nurse despite the fact that it was daytime. It was light out when she first confronted Armin, so she continued to stare out the window in confusion.

 _How long was I asleep?_

"It's been two days," the voice said in response to her thoughts, "I just woke up about ten minutes ago myself."

 _Two days_? Mikasa slowly sat up, her eyes finding the source of the voice leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed and his blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, revealing the cuts, bruises and bandages littered over his once deceptively angelic face. He looked thin and frail, as if a sneeze would send him flying.

And yet she was still afraid.

"…are you going to kill me?" she asked once her voice returned to her.

Armin shook his head. "No," he answered, "That'd put you out of your misery."

The woman's eyes widened. _Did he…?_

"I heard everything," he replied to her thoughts, "So no, it wasn't a dream. I may have woken up ten minutes ago but I've been out of my comatose state since last week, though I was still pretty weak—otherwise I would have paid you a visit sooner."

"H-how did you know where my room was?" she asked shakily, "and aren't you afraid of getting caught?"

"Nope," he replied, "as far as anyone knows, I'm in the bathroom—I got the room number from a doctor who discussed you with a nurse when he thought I was sleeping. People actually don't recognize me well, which is a shocker seeing as I'm all over the news again…"

Mikasa turned away from him, wary and slightly annoyed. There's no way he just wanted to make small talk with her given the current circumstances. "What do you want?" she demanded, fighting to keep her voice level.

"I wanted to ask you something," the blonde answered bluntly, "Why are you so attached to Eren?"

A flare of anger flashed through her as she turned back to him. "H-h-how _dare_ you—!"

"I was just curious," he interrupted calmly, "seeing as you killed my grandfather over him—I'm just trying to figure out if it was justified or not."

Her rage was replaced with confusion. "You…you _what_?"

 _Have you ever stopped and wondered what made him that way?_

"I know I've hurt you badly," he said quietly, "and _I_ sure as hell will never forgive _you_ for as long as I live—Grandpa was my _only_ _living_ _relative_ —however I _know_ didn't do everything you did just be because he's your adopted brother. I know there's more to the story and I'm just…curious."

Mikasa's face melted into a scowl. "You're going to hurt him again," she growled, "You're trying to use my—"

"I don't need the entire back story to know that your weakness is Eren," the blonde interrupted again, "I just want to know to see how much you _really_ care about him—I know he means a lot to you, but I what I want to know is _why_."

A memory suddenly popped into Mikasa's head. "B-but you already know what happened, didn't you?" she asked, "Y-you told me the…the first time you…"

"I only knew what the general public knew," Armin admitted, shrugging. "Parents murdered, girl adopted by doctor that happened to be visiting. I just acted like I knew more to scare the living shit out of you."

The woman's eyebrow's furrowed. "… _what_?"

"I'll tell you what," he said ignoring her question, "I'll tell you my tragic back story if you tell me yours."

Mikasa wanted nothing more than to turn him away, but…

 _Have you ever stopped and wondered what made him that way?_

She couldn't believe this was happening—the man who tortured her _twice_ is willing to ask about her past and try to understand where she was coming from?

"Why?" she asked again, "You already told me the entire—"

"I just told you how my parents died," he explained, "Trust me, there's a _lot_ more to _my_ story than you think as well. I'm not some random psycho that threw a hissy fit when my parents died—I'm more rational than you think."

"But…" Mikasa couldn't figure out his motive for the life of her. A part of her wants to just go along with the accusation she made earlier about him exploiting her one weakness, but for some reason that just didn't seem right—he actually sounded genuine…

The woman shook her head, trying to rid herself of those thoughts. "Why are you so curious?"

There was a pause, and the blonde sighed. "Before you get super offended, tell me that you will not judge me halfway through my sentence."

Mikasa blinked. "I…okay," she relented, curiosity getting the best of her.

"I…" Armin paused again, looking down at the ground. "I feel that we're somewhat alike."

 _…alike?!_

"What do you _mean 'alike'_!?" she demanded, "I am _nothing_ —"

She trailed off at the death glare the blonde gave her—even with all of his injuries he was still frightening. "…sorry," she apologized, looking away.

Armin sighed and rolled his eyes. "As I was saying," he continued, "I feel that we're alike—tragic back story, murdered parents, the whole nine. But…"

He trailed off, and Mikasa felt her curiosity grow. "But…what?"

"You…" the boy looked back up, eyes reflecting absolutely nothing. "You didn't have to go through all of that alone. You had 'your Eren'. I guess I had Grandpa, but I pushed him away—I pushed _everyone_ away…"

He took another deep breath and exhaled, closing his empty eyes. "You had someone to lean on," he continued, "I had no one—I didn't have anyone to lean on, so I fell and broke."

The blonde opened his dull, grey-blue eyes once again. "I guess you just got lucky."

"I…I want to make my Eren happy," she whispered, "so I'll tell you— _only_ if you tell me first."

The corners of Armin's mouth twitched. "Are you doing it so you can seem like the better person by agreeing or is it just for 'your Eren'?"

To be honest, she wasn't entirely sure. "Both," she decided, "But mostly for my Eren."

Armin blinked, looking genuinely confused. "…but you've seen what I've done to him," he said, "and you tried to kill me twice…"

"Eren…you heard what he said," Mikasa replied, "and…and I want to try to understand you for his sake. But if you _ever_ touch him again—"

"I'll die horribly," the blonde finished, "I'll try not to."

Mikasa narrowed her eyes at him.

"Hey, I can't promise anything," he said, holding up his hands. "I may have said I'm more rational than you think, but I'm still insane. He has to not piss me off."

He said the last thing with a laugh, and Mikasa was extremely perplexed by the sound.

"Now," Armin said, nodding to her. "As much as I'd love to chat, I hear the authorities calling for me and I'm too lazy to escape—promise you'll tell me your back story once we meet again?"

 _Once we meet again_ …so she hasn't escaped him yet.

"…fine," she relented, rolling her eyes. " _If_ you tell me yours."

The blonde grinned as loud shouting and footsteps faded into earshot.

"Deal."

* * *

"Erwin."

Erwin ignored the voice calling his name. He was deep in thought.

Everything had worked—he had faith in his plan, but he still couldn't believe it actually _worked_. He _knew_ even with Mikasa's god-like abilities and DD's proficiency with a shotgun would _never_ outsmart his favorite patient. They were dull, both of them—though for a moment he _was_ worried because Mikasa had thought of a plan that would have actually worked flawlessly on any other person.

But not his Armin.

" _Erwin_!" The brunette woman shouted, slamming her hands on his desk, finally gaining his attention.

"What is it Hanji?" Erwin asked, fighting to keep the irritation out of his voice.

"Trost Hospital called and said our 'new patient' has woken up and shown signs of… _physical_ recovery," Hanji said reluctantly, giving him an odd look. "Erwin, what is going on in that head of yours?"

The blonde man laughed quietly at the unexpected question. "A great many things," he said as he stood from his desk. "A great many things…"

Hanji dithered at the answer. "Well…" she started uncertainly, "You've been… _worrying_ me, not to mention some of the other patients feel uncomfortable around you—hell, some of the _orderlies_ feel put off by your unusual behavior."

"What unusual behavior?" Erwin asked dumbly. Had he not been as subtle as he thought?

"You mutter to yourself for one," his glasses-glad assistant explained, "and you laugh to yourself from time to time for no explainable reason—it's almost as if you're the one who needs to be _in_ a mental hospital, not running one."

Apparently not. "I assure you I'm fine Hanji," Erwin promised, "Now let's go make preparations for our 'new patient'…"

His assistant stood there for a moment and then sighed. "Whatever you say Erwin," she murmured, leaving the room.

When she did, he laughed to himself again, still giddy that his plan had really _worked_ —pulling the strings in the shadows had always been his specialty. Though it did have a few bumps down the road (his remaining arm was still broken, damn old fart) his countermeasures for his fail-safes for his plan B's saved him in the end. He'll get to be reunited with his favorite patient, and all would be right in the world once again.

He laughed again, out loud this time. He wondered if he changed at all since his last visit—most likely, seeing as it's been months. He'd have to make the most of his limited time with him, because he knew that Armin will escape eventually—he always does. He's a genius, and no matter how hard Erwin can try, he just can't contain him—he's just too smart and free spirited to be tied down and caged like the animal he is.

 _Like father like son_ , Erwin mused, following after his assistant.

 _ **END**_

 **BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE!**

 **Look out for "Sprinkles", the third (and possibly last) book in this series :D**


	20. Chortles

**LOL JK NOT AN UPDATE**

 **I'm planning on doing a massive revision of Giggles and Sparkles once I finish Sprinkles, and I may just put them all in one single story. But for that I'll need YOUR help :D**

 **I'm opening up a forum for constructive crit. and ideas for editing this story because I'm planning on mashing all three (yes, I'm going to end it at three) stories into one massive story, but I don't want to lose all of your beautiful reviews XD. Also I'm aware that Giggles and the first few chapters of Sparkles reflect old writing habits that must be fixed, and leaving the mistakes I made is killing me inside ;_;**

 **So Here's the forum:** **myforums/The-Mistress-of-Fire/3280633/**

 **and feel free to flame me as well-I can take it XD**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Mistress of-**

 ***Fanfiction police bust through wall* YOU CAN'T HAVE A LONE A/N FOR A CHAPTER! POST A CHAPTER!**

 **Me:FINE FINE I'LL POST A STUPID CHAPTER! JEEZ! *realizes that I haven't started on Sprinkles*...um...*gets idea* AHA! PARODIES FOR DAYS!**

 ***a couple hours of furious typing later...***

 **I present to you, a parody of my own fanfic because why the frick not?**

"What do you mean _I_ have to be the one who interviews him?"

Eren's boss sighed as he set down his tea cup. "We need a plot device, and you make the most sense. Besides, don't you want to talk to a complete psycho like yourself?"

Eren swallowed. He might have a temper, but he's not _psycho_. "I'm not sure that's entirely true—"

"Look Yeager," Levi said, "stop stalling and progress the damn plot. Besides, at least your sister isn't the main character in this story."

Eren thought for a moment. Sure, he's already usually the main character, but Mikasa _still_ somehow is stronger than him and better at _everything_ , even in fanfiction. Maybe this was his chance to prove he's better than her as the main character.

"I'll do it," he said with resolve.

"Don't fanboy yet," his boss said, tossing him a file. "We've been interviewing this asylum for a while so we don't have to think of a reason why we're doing it so suddenly. We're finally allowed to interview the little shit and now everyone's panties are tied in a knot."

"I'll do it," Eren said again.

Levi nodded. "His name is Armin Arlert. He's fucking smart but fucking crazy—I'm not going into detail because it's all in that file. Little shit's an escape artist, and nobody figures out how he gets out. I'm pretty sure killing is a fucking hobby, but I'm not a deranged lunatic."

Eren looked through the file, which ranged from petty theft (he's done that before) to cannibalism (he definitely hasn't done _that_ before).

"I'm counting on you," Levi said, "but if you chicken out at the last second I won't blame you. The last guy who interviewed him—"

"—became a victim," Eren finished, "I'm not surprised."

"No," Levi replied, "his entire Madoka Magica figurine collection was burned to ashes along with his house."

Eren's eyes widened but didn't respond. He wasn't a fan of Madoka Magica, but is someone so much as touches at his Sword Art Online figurines…

"Just stick with the facts," Levi said, "Be cold and distant—channel my douchiness or Leonhart's bitchyness if you can. He can be a clever little shit, so _don't be stupid_.

"Don't be stupid," Eren repeated, "I will keep that in mind."

"Thanks," Levi said, "I don't want any more figurines to die a fiery death."

With that ominous statement, Eren was shooed out of his office.

"You shouldn't do this Eren."

Eren rolled his eyes as he double checked his things. "Of course _you_ would say that. _You_ just want to be the main character."

"Eren he's _killed_ people," Mikasa insisted, "he's destroyed figurines!"

"And there won't be any present when I'm speaking to him," Eren replied, "besides, he can't hurt me."

"That's where you're wrong," his sister said, "he can hurt you _mentally._ I heard he figured out the plot to Inception the first time he watched it."

 _Holy shit._ Eren fought down a wave of fear—that was some serious intellect he got there. "I'm only asking questions," he muttered.

"And who knows how he'll reply?" Mikasa shot back.

"I'm going to be the main character of this story!" Eren explodes, "And you can't stop me!"

Mikasa looked down. "Fine," she said, defeated. "Be careful and just…don't be stupid."

Eren stopped. _Don't be stupid_.

That was the same exact advice his boss gave him.

"Fine fine," Eren relented, "I'll see you later."

"Be safe," Mikasa called out.

Eren sighed. "I will!"

"Hello I'm Journalist Eren Yeager," Eren said, "And I'm here to interview a patient."

"Alright," the receptionist said, smiling kindly. "Who is it?"

Eren took a deep breath. "Armin Arlert."

All sound in the room ceased when someone spontaneously combusted.

"W-what?" the receptionist squeaked.

The brunette stared at the charred remains of the person on the floor. "I-I'm Journalist Eren Yeager—"

"N-no, no that," the receptionist interrupted, "you're interviewing who?"

Eren wasn't quite sure he was supposed to say his name aloud, considering someone had just caught fire at the sound of it.

Seeing his distress, the receptionist laughed nervously. "Oh don't worry," she said, "sometimes the patients do that and we don't know why—some speculate it's from pure shock, but it's not proven yet."

Well _that's_ not supposed to happen…

"I-I'm here to see Armin Arlert," Eren said slowly, watching out for people catching fire.

Nothing happened.

"See?" the receptionist said, "I'll call Dr. Smith right now, and the janitor to pick up the ashes. Oh! And a piece of advice—he may be cute, but don't be stupid."

 _Don't be stupid_.

"You're literally the third person to tell me this," Eren sighed.

"That's because the universe knows you have a bad habit of acting stupid," she replied, "so it's trying to emphasize that you _shouldn't_ be stupid.

Biting back a rainbow colored retort, Eren merely grumbled to himself.

Then a man strode into the room wearing a white coat and a nametag that said _Dr. Smith_.

"You're the one who set fire to one of my patients, I take it?" he asked with a smile, holding out a hand to shake.

Eren took it hesitantly. "Ah…yeah, sorry about that," he murmured, "I-I'm Eren Yeager of Maria Monthly."

"Cool story bro," Dr. Smith said unprofessionally, "Now, onwards to the demon you're going to be mind-fucked by."

"Wait- _what_ -!?"

Eren blinked and they stood before a massive animantium door. "How the hell-!?"

"Just remember," Dr. Smith said, "Looks can be deceiving, so don't be stupid!"

With that, he opened the door and pushed the poor brunette inside, slamming the door closed behind him.

"...well shit."

 **Tell me if I should make this it's own story or not :D you can give ideas for that as well if you want...or just chide me on how stupid I am XD**

 **Sincerely,**

 **Mistress of...**

 ***waits for police to bust through the wall***

 ***nothing happens***

 ***sighs in relief*...Fire**


End file.
